Makar's Home: II
by windwraith
Summary: the G boys have found the 1 person that knows more about them then they know about themselves and they aren't going to let him get away. But they may get more than they barganed for. Learn Lt. Naught's secrets in part 2 of the Makar Series.
1. Introduction

Makar's Home (Part 2 of the Makar's Series)  
Originally titled "Too Close to Home"  
By Vigilanti Windwraith

These can be read independently but to get the whole picture…  
Read Part 1 "Makar's Confession"  
and keep an eye out for Part 3 "Makar's Destiny"

1. Introduction:

I am Naught the last of the Makar, the scientists and technicians responsible for the gundam program, which spawned Operation Meteor. The war is over now and a new age of peace encompasses the earth-sphere. The mighty mechanized battle suits the Makar created served their purpose with tremendous success. Relations between earth and the colonies had never been better. Now it seems apparent our war-machines have no place in the new era. The destruction of the Gundam's meant there were five less reminders of the war torn era quickly fading into history. But what of the living weapons we crafted to pilot them? By mission standards they too were obsolete…but intelligent beings are not easily cast aside…nor should they be.

I never intended to reveal myself to the five young men. I was convinced I could guide them from the shadows…dole out the contents of the intelligence files I collected about their training and performance during the war. I wanted them to learn about themselves…and each other in a measured and systematic way. I figured I could remain clinically detached, as I had been trained to be. It didn't happen.

I suppose it was the naiveté of the scientist in me rather than the practicality of the warrior that conceived such a plan. Despite what we had done to them…the five young men refused to sit contently on a microscope slide while I reassured myself they were adjusting to civilian life with moderate success. To assume such a thing was possible, or even advisable, was contrary to the very instincts Dr. J and the other Makar went to such lengths to instill in them.

I was discovered. And instead of demanding retribution for what was had done to them…they stipulated, what…that I care for them. Pilot 0-4 even went so far as to name me their legitimate 'parent'…ME, Naught, the technician whose duty was to sit back and watch as they were made into weapons, I was trained not to see them as individuals no, but as specimens, subjects for study.

The Boys said I lied when I told them my role with the Makar was insignificant…perhaps they were right. I never truly evaluated the ramifications of what I had done—and I certainly tried not to think about what had been done to me. But history has a way of shadowing the present and eventually—when you least expect it—it strikes, intruding on the future in ways you can not anticipate or control.

I had never been one to shirk my duty. But I had to remind myself that 0-1 was not the stoic pilot of the wing gundam anymore…he was Heero Yuy. 0-2 was more than the self-styled god of death…He was Duo Maxwell. 0-4, the diplomat was Quatre Winner heir of a very influential corporate family and 0-5 was last of an ancient warrior clan, Chang WuFei. Finally, the pilot I knew as No Name was nameless no more. 0-3 took the identity I had inadvertently given—when my hasty bullet removed the real Trowa Barton from the roster of operation meteor.


	2. Mission Parameters

2: Mission Parameters

"So, are you going to take us for ice cream or what?" 0-2…Duo had asked.

And before I could fully comprehend the ramifications of my plans for anonymity raining around my ears like 37 mm shells, the five young men were piled in the back of my battered van and we were headed…I had no idea where. I was behind the wheel it was true but it was Heero's dispassionate voice from the co-pilots…er…passenger seat that dictated our route.

"Turn here," He said and I did, very much on autopilot. That quiet voice could have led us off the side of a cliff and I would have hardly noticed. I lost track of time passing but finally He announced, "This is it."

I pulled into a parking space in front of a small rustic, establishment. "Mission's yours Quatre, Trowa you're back up," Heero announced. The door of the van slid open and two young men exited without a word. I saw 0-3 unconsciously cast his wary-green-gaze up and down the street taking note of every shadow and hint of movement that could indicate a potential threat to himself…or the team. But this was not a sting operation…this was an ice cream run. A fact I was vividly reminded of when Duo cracked the back window and shouted to the others "Pretzels! We'll need Pretzels!"

0-4, Quatre half turned and gave him a little salute in acknowledgement before following Nanashi through the swinging door of the "Cool Cow Creamery". I adjusted the rearview mirror to get a good view of the back seat. Duo had settled back into the middle seat, still clutching my data pad to his chest. He had not even tried to turn it on but it didn't look as if he planned on letting it go any time soon.

WuFei was sitting sideways in the rearmost seat with the sheets of my journal resting on his knees. I knew he was re-reading the section where I revealed that his memories of his wife Meilan were nothing more than a very detailed virtual program concocted by Master O to manipulate him. Her death had affected him greatly…as it had been meant to, but it was not real. The truth was, she had never lived…therefore could not have died.

Since Maxwell had my pad I could not use it to check the normally intense pilot's brain waves and emotional readings. I had to resort to the direct approach; "Are you all right Chang?" I asked awkwardly. The boy sighed forlornly and shrugged.

"It is a lot to take in, I know," I tried to sound supportive but this really wasn't my field of experience. I was a technician…not a psychologist. As far as I knew there had never been ANY psychologists assigned to "weapons development". Though I often had cause wonder how things might have been different if there had been.

I could not read the emotion boiling behind the boy's obsidian eyes but I wished there was something I could do to alleviate it. Comfort was an ungainly language…one I'd had far too few opportunities to practice over the years, but still I felt compelled to try. "You are your own person in spite of everything the Makar did. Some of your memories may be false but your reaction to them was not. The lessons you learned from Nataku were real. You would not be who you are today if not for the strength of character you developed to cope with her loss. Your achievements are what really matter."

0-5 didn't respond and I had no idea if my words had any effect, positive or negative. I wasn't even sure if they had any relation to the struggles he faced in the closet of his mind. It was a new experience for me and I must admit to finding it unnerving in the extreme. I was too accustomed to the clandestine advantages of Makar Technology. "May I have my pad back?" I asked the braided youth.

Duo's near violet eyes glazed over a bit at the request. "I can hack just about anything," he told me quietly.

"So Professor G told me...and you've proven him correct on more than one occasion during the war," I acknowledged but again, I felt half blind not being able to read what was going on in his head. "What is bothering you?" I was forced to ask.

"This pad represents a challenge. I expect it is one of the most intricate systems ever designed," He explained and I nodded in acceptance of the fact. I knew for fact that the Makar had been leagues beyond anything accessible to the private sector and even most military grade tech. There had been one designer in OZ capable of matching my system but they had lost him sometime ago. I winced but tried not to get distracted from what the boy was saying. Finally he got to the crux of the matter and I was surprised that I had never even considered the situation from his perspective. "I am afraid," He said.

"Afraid?" I asked confused. I could feel Heero stiffen beside me, clearly uncomfortable at the other boy's admission.

O-5 on the other hand had no difficulty whatsoever with the concept. "He wants to crack the system but doesn't want to accidentally stumble into something that might be potentially dangerous. From what you have written here, it seems like that is a real possibility," WuFei said bluntly.

I nodded gloomily but didn't know what to say. The boy was correct. During the course of their training each pilot had been implanted with a complex network of neural sensors and contact nodes. By connecting remotely to this link I gained access to the most intimate details of their thoughts, impressions, feelings and physical condition. To me it was a necessary tool…I'd forgotten things look differently when you are on the other side of the proverbial magnifying glass.

"Hn," Heero's reply was succinct as always. This was one instance where he was not going to accuse the braided boy of being a Baka.


	3. Safe House

3: Safe House, the incident

My Small apartment consisted of three rooms. The largest room encompassed both the living room and kitchen separated by an island countertop. My bedroom was barely large enough for my bed and desk. The bathroom was only slightly larger than the cockpit of a gundam. It was not a residence that readily accommodated five fifteen-year-olds as well as myself. But there they were none the less.

Heero and Trowa had taken possession of my sofa, two spoons and a half gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. Soon they were engrossed in a video documentary about the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. Duo sat on one of the two barstools pulled up to the island munching on pretzels and rocky road ice cream. The chair was facing backwards and his arms were folded across the chair back. He still eyed my data pad as if it were a snake; Hypnotic but dangerous.

Finally, I said "Go ahead and try it Maxwell. I'll keep an eye on your progress and tell you if you are venturing into dangerous territory." That was all the encouragement he needed and was soon busily tapping away at the keypad.

Quatre had the other stool. His feet rested on the rungs bringing his knees up almost as high as the table top. He didn't seem to mind. I, on the other hand had never been so self-conscious of my pitiful estate. The feeling was made even more apparent when I noticed I did not have enough mismatched silverware to accommodate them all. I will never forget the sight of one of the richest young men in the earth-sphere delicately licking the last of the butter-pecan ice cream off the slightly-bent tines of fork.

Though I brought out the desk chair from my bedroom WuFei choose to stand as he browsed my copious bookshelves. What he thought of the eclectic mix of everything from dog-eared Latin texts to modern mystery novels was beyond me. He did however seem drawn to the classics and literary works almost lovingly touching the gilded spine of "Journey to the West" and several others. He actually thumbed through a copy of "Around the world in eighty days"before snorting derisively and replacing it in the shelf.

I wondered if he was as picky about his reading material as he had been about his ice cream. Apparently, it was low-fat almond cookie frozen yogurt or nothing. Butter-almond wouldn't cut it nor would the pint of praline-crunch and, in his words, "Civilized persons should know eating cookie-dough is an abomination."

I didn't mind in the least I didn't generally get ice cream and cookie dough seemed like a special treat. I was busy with my own bowl as I glanced at the screen over Duo's shoulder. Quatre had been quite apologetic and must have told WuFei he was "sorry" at least five times.

Duo paused his assault on the third level encryption codes just long enough to put his two cents in. "Don't feel bad Q, I think you did a fine job," He said then added "Only Wuffers would expect that space-heart of yours to be calibrated for ice-cream favors. If he's so fussy he should have gone in himself."

"Fine!" the straight laced warrior announced, "I order the pizza then; Thin crust, chicken with sun dried tomatoes…and alfredo sauce—any complaints? No?" he asked, then was strolling into my bedroom to call in the order…only later did he ask the address of my apartment to inform the delivery driver. It was not till the pizza arrive that the others learned he had ordered a vegetarian and a plain cheese as well. Everyone was more then satisfied.

Duo was just shy of breaching the fourth security level when he set the pad aside. It was a bit difficult infiltrate a computer system with a slice of pizza in each hand. I could not help but smile. It was good to see the boys…acting like boys. They had been through so much I had feared the knowledge I shared with them would dampen the occasion over much, but I shouldn't have worried.

The young pilots were not so different from normal teenagers in their ability to lay aside 'non-critical' matters when food was readily available. I could not help but reflect how right Professor G had been when he said attempting long term care for even one of the young pilots might well eat him out of house and home.

My particular skill set is not what one would call "marketable" and many of the accounts the Makar used to squirrel away funds had been appropriated by the government. As a result my living stipend did not go as far as I'd been promised. Truth was I was lucky the boys paid for their own snacks or I'd have been reduced to granola bars and ramen for the rest of the week.

I was actually enjoying my slice of Chang's gourmet pizza and failed to notice 0-3 pick up the data-pad and flick through the encryption log Duo had been in the process of unraveling. While 0-2 had been assaulting the main defenses Trowa characteristically took a more subtle route, delving deep into the code. His practiced eye found a way to slip in through the back door and he exploited it. He keyed in the sequence and the final three levels of protection folded neatly in on themselves.

Duo wasn't aware of it, but his green-eyed companion had been engaged in an undeclared rivalry with him. Every time the braided pilot boasted about cracking this system or that security network, Trowa had, at his leisure, done the same…usually in half the time. This instance was no different…until he ventured too far into the network and a cascade of navigation widows sprang to life.

Trowa had been procuring the ice cream with Quatre when Duo and I had our conversation about the dangers of hacking my data-pad. The young incursions expert assumed he had accidentally triggered some sort of dormant program file. He began shutting windows and suddenly Heero yelped as if he'd been stung. The chocolate haired boy glared angrily rubbing the hollow behind his ear.

I turned my best glare on Duo with only to find he was not the culprit. Nanashi returned my gaze with confusion in his green eyes. He silently mouthed the question "Did I?" and cast a meaningful glance at Heero.

"Let me take it from here,"I told him sliding the pad to my section of the island. Actually, the boy had lucked out. Most of the data functions were passive. Monitoring and incremental adjustments or regulation could be, and for the most part were, achieved without the subject's knowledge.

All of the sequences Trowa accidentally triggered were harmless, save one. The one Doctor J used when he was generally irritated with Heero and wanted him to know it. The Makar had never deemed it relevant to explain the particulars to the boy, but Heero often had occasion to know what 'being managed' felt like. Guilt flooded through me. "I'm sorry, it is my fault. I should not have permitted myself to get distracted," I told the boys.

Heero bit his lip and nodded. That got the others attention. They had expected his normal, "Hn," But the look on his face was miles from the usual. In fact his deep blue eyes seemed precariously close to tears.

"Wait" Quatre frowned, his analytical mind quickly sorted through the information he had gleaned from my journal notes and put the pieces together. "Is that—" pointing to the tangle of data and indicator bars dancing across the screen, "—Is that Heero?"

I could only nod.


	4. Lesson 1 Just the Basics

4: Lesson 1 Just the Basics

After the incident with the data pad, I needed some air. I was reasonably certain none of the boys would risk meddling with it again. I briefly told them to make themselves at home and stepped outside to sit on the back porch. I say porch, what it am referring to is a slightly raised portion of concrete large enough to accommodate a battered folding chair and an orange milk crate pretending to be a table.

Style never had much meaning for me. If my upbringing had been different, I am sure it would have been otherwise. But as it was, I figured it did not matter if I had to mend the roof every few weeks to keep it from leaking, so long as the premises were tactically sound…A secure local with more than one means of entry or egress and several well disguised compartments where I could store my equipment and supplies. In short, It was a safe-house not a home. Even so, some part of me regretted the fact that there really wasn't much to look at in the alley behind my apartment. A small shed with a rusted roof of corrugated metal--containing my washer and drier, a featureless gray brick wall, and a rutted dirt path.

Between the shed and the path were several old tires that I'd piled one on top the other and filled with soil. 'Why would I do that?' You wonder. It was ludicrous really, but after the war I wanted desperately to watch some thing grow. With the garbage I found in the alley I made myself a planter. It was strange how highly I prized those few scraggly buttercups and the battered half-brown bush nearly brought me to tears when it finally yielded a single blood-red rose.

Was that why I'd sought out the pilots? Gotten involved in their lives again? Was I lying to myself when I said they needed me? Were they only here because of my twisted desire to watch them grow? I sat on the folding chair and leaned my elbows on my knees as I turned these things over in my mind.

No damage had been done this time. Heero was the most resilient when it came to withstanding the mental intrusions of the link. But if 0-3 had accidentally stumbled into one of the other's pilots mind…or his own, the results could have been much more costly. It was true that it would take someone with very specialized knowledge to hack the safeguards I had in place. But the boys had proven it could be done. And if they could do it…someone else may.

The fact remained that if something were to happen to me, the boys could be at the mercy of whoever possessed the pad. Could I, in good faith, place them in such a risk? Perhaps it was best if I had the pad destroyed as the gundams had been. There would be a price of course, I shuddered to think, but others had sacrificed as much—or more—to secure this time of peace for all earth-sphere. These boys deserved security as much as peace. I truly believed it was still necessary to monitor our living weapons…but was it? Was I underestimating them? Was it worth the risks?

"Lieutenant?" A soft voice called me back to from my thoughts. I wasn't exactly sure how long I had been sitting there or exactly when my fists that found their way into my pale blond hair…it was longer now, there was more of it to hold on top than when I had been among the Makar. I hated wearing it short but it made me look older. I probably seem ancient to the boys inside but, truth is I am not yet 26 and I must have painted a fine picture of dejection when young Quatre came to get me.

"I'll get rid of the pad…wipe it, have it dismantled and destroyed. It will no longer a threat to you," I told the boy quietly.

0-4 shook his head. "Don't," He said.

That simple word jolted my thoughts once more into turmoil "What?" I asked in unbelief.

"We don't want it destroyed, not just now anyway. We have talked it over decided we've got a lot of growing to do before we can...do without supervision," Quatre explained with a shrug. "What we want is for you to teach us how it works and why. Heero said it best I think when he compared it to keeping a weapon in the house. It is dangerous yes…we understand that…but, if you ensure everyone in the house is trained to handle it appropriately, and dedicated to keeping it secure, there is less risk."

"Are you sure?" I asked uncertainly.

The blond favored me with a little smile. "If you are like us, having a weapon nearby is actually a comfort…Though I'll not be keeping mine under my pillow at night like Heero does. I won't be responsible for things I might do when I'm half-conscious." He chuckled.

I couldn't help but smile at the image of Heero sleepily caressing the hilt of his revolver before snuggling back into the sheets. I'd seen stranger things during my time in the military. Then my thoughts took on a more professional edge, as their keeper. I expect all the pilots had more than their share of nightmares. Now that we were together I could easily use the link to lower their ambient stress level or set up a passive REM program let them sleep undisturbed. I idly squashed a mosquito that had alighted on my arm and decided it was time to go inside.

The television was off and the boys had the pad set up on the coffee table. Duo was sitting cross-legged on the rug next to Heero's knee. Trowa was sideways in my desk chair with one lanky leg dangling over the padded arm. WuFei was perched on the stepstool he had found folded behind the bathroom door and Heero and Quatre had apparently decided that I would sit between them on the couch. All looked to me with expectant faces. "You want to do this now?" I asked surprised.

"Affirmative," Heero nodded and motioned for me to take the place beside him, directly in front of the monitor. Quatre folded himself into the space to my left, tucking a knee against his chest and leaning his chin and forearms on it. He seemed very…young.

I took a deep breath and keyed in my password. It took no time at all for the screen to flash to life. Five icons appeared on the edge of the menu bar one keyed to each of the young men sitting beside me. I thought of using Heero as an example simply because I was much more familiar with his control sequences, I'd seen many of them forged. But then again, his program was far more complex than the others and I didn't want to start out by mudding the waters with information that was only relevant in his particular case. That should be done on a one-on-one basis.

"Can we do me first?" Quatre asked liquid-sapphire eyes shining bright. "In the journal pages you shared with us, you wondered if I'd known about the link. I remember I used to get headaches when I was little and spent several weeks in hospital where I first met Instructor H. Father said the test results were inconclusive. I always thought the pain was related to the space-heart but you speculated that my…sensitivity…was nothing more than…a side effect. You said a quick glance at the data told you I was natural born. I-I want to know how."

"If that is what you want," I agreed, I knew the layout like the back of my hand but the boys didn't. If they were serious about learning about this the least I could do was to make it a bit more difficult for mistakes, like the one Trowa had made earlier, to happen. I right clicked on 0-4's icon and labeled it 'Quatre' then opened the screen.

"Basics first—" I began, "Blood pressure and heart rate are a bit elevated…I expect you are a bit nervous and I can't say as I blame you. White blood cell count is normal. You are a bit anemic but it is nothing a few good meals won't cure. Height, weight, blood type all the standard information is here." I pointed to each reading. "Current body temperature is 97.5°" I said selecting a drop down menu next to the temp reading; the graph that appeared confirmed that over the past month the Arabian lad had a consistently lower than average body temperature, therefore making it statistically normal.

In the upper right corner of the screen was the unmistakable DNA helix incontrovertibly identifying him as 0-4: Winner, Q. I highlighted the sequences and briefly explained what the Makar had done to enhance the code: red, yellow, blue, green, yellow, red.

"You are sure what they did has no connection to the space heart?" The blond asked quietly…there was a sadness in his voice that made be think that—being told the thing he saw as integral to his sense of 'self' meant nothing, would not be good for his esteem. But when 0-2 had been trying to console 0-5 about his false memories he had said; Uncovering lies was a good thing, because they are like snakes waiting for a chance to bite you in the butt." 0-1 translated that as, "it is faulty tactics to ignoring a sniper who's got your flank between his crosshairs," but the sentiment had been the same; not dealing with lies when they crop up was dangerous.

"I'm sorry but there has never been any hard evidence…" I began but 0-3 raised a hand cutting me off.

"You are wrong," He said quietly. "Earth Sphere Alliance sanitized records; some remain. Instructor H was assigned to 'Neotype research.' Quatre's received training we didn't, but I've seen things during the war, we all have. It might be the result of the Makar…it might be inborn…It IS real." The quiet boy shook his finally and the blond gave him a slight smile.

"Inborn" the blonde's eyes lit up again. "Show me how you know I was natural born,"He changed the subject smoothly as one would expect a diplomat. And I had to give him full marks for that.

"Very well" I smiled selecting the terminating brackets of the DNA strand. In the diagram they were color coded but the boys would not understand what the colors meant as I did. "These are Microcellular Endpoint Occlusions" it is a way the body stores vast amounts of data in something so very small. In nature the signature imbedded in the MEO is so vast the pattern appears random. In the lab the differential is kept much smaller so there is less chance for mutation." I zoomed out and drew attention to the variegated colored caps then pulled up another file for comparison. Now that they knew what to look for the regular pattern of color shifts on the sample were apparent.

"Whose DNA is that?" Trowa asked indicating the other sample. I winced realizing that while I was pointing out the differences, he was noticing the similarities—namely the red, yellow, blue, green, yellow, red, sequence I previously identified as being symptomatic of Makar manipulation.

"Mine,"I answered quietly, and thankfully he didn't say anything else. If they had wanted me to zero in on the endpoints I knew the extreme magnification, and various filter-programs found only is the most classified Makar technology…such as my pad, would reveal a silver band that I would have had difficulty explaining. I remember my worried thoughts so clearly painted as they were in Maxwell's metaphor; 'Some times we are forced live with our snakes, we try to convince ourselves they are pets rather than predators. But Lies are lies, and once bitten relationships are poisoned," Caution whispered, "Give it time Naught boy…give it time. You've only just met these boys. They won't understand."

I sighed, to conceal the shudder and continued with the demonstration. "Phase two: going a bit deeper now. Tell me if any of you get uncomfortable, some people are more sensitive and can feel the deeper connections. If your head starts to ache or just want me to stop say so. We can't go over everything tonight; I won't let Quatre here bear the brunt of the lesson. I can spread it out, finding examples in each of your files before going into the specifics of each case,"I told them before going on to the next screen. "This page records physical, mental and psychological stress." The three dominant graphs ticked off each minute on the horizontal, the vertical had numerical increments and color coding indicating what was considered an acceptable range for each.

Because of his empathic nature 0-4 was permitted a wide range of variation with regards to emotion. Presently his line was jagged and erratic, doubtlessly influenced by the those around him as well as his own. According to the statistical data the readings still fell within acceptable limits.

I knew if I had started with Heero they would see considerably different results. Instead of benign tabs marked edit, evaluate, and augment they would see thick horizontal lines not merely recording, but restricting the bandwidth of what was allowable. Other password protected menus made it possible to regulate the flow of specific emotions or set reactions to trigger on a situation by situation basis. But that level of manipulation required additional hardware…I nervously wondered if they would want demonstrations of that as well. If so…I would have to go back...take them with me…. The idea both thrilled and unnerved me. I pushed the unwanted emotion away and concentrated on the situation at hand.

The bar graph regarding brain activity was placed on a zero axis. I explained that the base line was unconsciousness. Positive numbers meant Quatre was awake, negative numbers track activity during REM. As the bars stretched higher they fell into three bands of color indicating function level: yellow was low, tan was normal, and high was red.

"You can all thank the Makar for the distinction," I told them. "In certain circumstances, like when you are in combat or performing in areas where you are…gifted…your brain literally switches into high gear. You all know Quatre's areas of experience are in formulating strategies or coordinating the efforts of others. The average person in the street can't process and analyze data with anything near the same speed he does without blowing a fuse—but all of you have proven time again you can do so with efficiency and effectiveness," I pointed out.

0-4's physical readings were less than spectacular, and not simply because he was mostly just sitting there staring at the screen. The real time readings were measured on a digital gauge divided into sections like a pie chart. It wasn't particularly impressive. Just like the record of his body temperature on the previous page I flicked to a graph showing two lines indicating the high and low readings of each day for the past month. The gentle slopes it showed were a clear indicator that since the war ended the boy had fallen into somewhat sedentary habits. I saw the blond frown.

"This indicator is not as sensitive as the others," I explained "It only gives an average of what your body is capable of and how much of those resources you are using it at present." Then I brought up the screen monitoring the major muscle groups, Quatre tried stretching and waving his arms around and everyone watched the jagged line recording the actual the electro magnetic pulses the muscles received.

The sun was down now and so far I had only showed the boys the passive data functions of the pad. I hoped to hold off showing them how easily those readings could be regulated triggered remotely, or tricked into experiencing something that wasn't real at least until tomorrow. "It is getting late," I pointed out, "Are you planning to stay here or do I need to drop you somewhere?"

"Hello, orphan here," Duo grinned. "Fei slipped his Preventer's leash and une thinks he's on vacation an Quat is the only one of us with real responsibilities being all corporate executive-ish and all but I expect his pet Mags are looking after things. They are good like that." He smirked. "Are the fez-boys aware we decided to drop off the grid for a while or do you need to give um a call?" Duo asked the blond.

"Rashid won't expect me to contact them for few days yet…But, um…where will you put us." He looked around my 'bachelor pad' uncertainly.. "I mean it is rather bad manors to just invite ourselves over. It wouldn't be proper. We don't want to put you out," Quatre said. Despite the words, his eyes and tone told me he very much wanted to stay. Perhaps he suspected that, if they left…I would take the opportunity to disappear again—Admittedly, I had considered that option.

I expect they stayed in worse during the war but once again I thought about how inadequately prepared I was to have 'guests.' At least Winner was polite. Mentally I ran through the inventory of my meager possessions. Perhaps if I added my towels and tablecloth in among my extra sheets, there might be enough 'blankets and pillows' to accommodate them.

Duo interrupted my thoughts. "No problem." The boy grinned. "Quatre can take the couch and the rest of us can take the floor. I mean, I can sleep in a cardboard box—I have in fact, only problem is rain makes 'um soggy." He waved his hand at the others expressively. "I know you formal military types have made an art of sleeping in 'less than optimal conditions.' He said sending a wry grin at Heero. "No problem."

"Hn," said Heero and WuFei snorted.

I felt sure Chang would find reason to complain. Instead, he announced, "I'll take first watch then, Shall I."

Was that a joke? I wondered speechless with surprised.

Trowa just stood there with his arms crossed…he raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch and smiled.


	5. Wake up Call

5: Wake up call

The next morning I woke to the unexpected sound of running water. It took several sleep fogged moments for me to realize that it was not rain working its way beneath the patch I'd made in the roof. It was just the shower. One of the boys was awake. I sniffed cautiously, was that…mint coffee? I wondered leveraging myself off the lumpy mattress of my cot to go investigate the curiously tantalizing aroma.

Nanashi was sitting on one of the bar stools cradling a chipped mug in his hands. "Mint tea…and coffee shortly," The soft spoken boy said.

"That coffee maker hasn't worked in months." I frowned at the rebellious appliance.

"Duo's fixed it," The green-eyed boy replied careful not to wake his sleeping companions. The data pad was still where I left it, on the counter top adjoining the island. The previous night I went to bed early so the boys would have privacy to get situated as they wished. When I made my intensions known the boys had cautioned me against leaving the data pad on the coffee table and so I had moved it. Now I saw why.

Quatre was sideways; stretched half on the couch, half on the table. He slept in a twisted S shape, his arms flung wide. One sheet was coiled snake-like around his petite form and he snuggled sleepily into the satiny table cloth I'd found at a jumble sale several months previous. The blond boy always seemed the most peaceful and child-like of the five but apparently he was quite...active in his sleep.

Not like Heero. During my time with Doctor J, I'd had reason to observe 0-1 in his sleep many times. Whether he was in a bed in the infirmary or on a table in the lab; swathed in antiseptic sheets, bandages or diagnostic wires, his features smoothed and softened. Regardless of his condition, the boy always seemed more human—almost vulnerable—when he was lost in his dreams.

I smiled to see Heero now, peacefully curled up in a loose ball with his back against the front door, barring entry. One arm was pillowed under his head. With the other arm he clutched his scrunched up green shirt against his naked chest, almost as if it were a teddy bear. Sure enough, just as Quatre had predicted; my revolver—which Heero willfully neglected to return—lay right beside him.

I scanned the rest of the room and my smile broadened when I noticed the usually straight-laced WuFei asleep stretched out in the padded desk chair. A brightly colored beach towel lay draped across his lap and my copy of Gulliver's travels lay open across his chest. The young pilot's head was tipped back resting on a convenient bookshelf…and he was snoring quietly.

The bathroom door opened and Duo emerged. His trademark locks were unbound and still dripping as he tipped his head sideways and tried to brush out the tangles. I winced when I noticed the beach towel draped around his shoulders. I was thinking about size and thickness when I picked it up at the second-hand shop—I can only imagine what they thought when they spread the towel out and saw the huge panda grinning back at them.

"Thanks for fixing the coffee maker," I told the honey-haired boy, pouring him a cup as I made one for myself, pale with cream. At least I had enough cups for everyone…even if some were a bit worse for wear.

"It was easy." Duo yawned taking the cup with a nod. "I mostly did it for Heero though…I tell you that boy needs his coffee in the morning. I shot him twice…and he's knocked me out once…This is the only surefire way I've come up with to keep him from evening the score…Watch," he challenged. "Oye…Yuy!" he said, without regard for his other companions, and lobbed the wet towel at the sleeping soldier boy.

Heero grunted something rude and groped for the pistol. I admit being seconds away from diving behind the island. I had seen the boy trained. I knew that while fatigue did not improve his attitude at all, it did not impair his aim in the slightest.

Without opening his eyes 0-1 spun the cylinder of the revolver and listened to the sound. "S'not loaded," The tired youth grumped. From the impish grin on Maxwell's face I knew Heero would have to wake-up more fully if he wanted to find out where Duo hid the ammo and reload. 0-1 hissed angrily and tried to go back to sleep.

This was apparently the signal for 0-2 to try a different tactic, "Heeeero…Cafeeeeine….Nice…see," Duo said, holding the coffee pot high above the cup dramatically, as he poured for the other boy.

Heero sat up, licked his lips, and blinked. I knew Doctor J had been notoriously hard on 0-1 in the mornings. Perhaps the boy would have been more cooperative if the master had thought to regularly caffeinate him as Duo did. As Heero stretched to pull in his shirt it still surprised me how little scarring there was on his wiry body. I knew how much the Prussian eyed youth had been through. Doctor J had been a sadistic old geezer but the chemical the man developed to supercharge a subject's healing-ability was genus. Heero rubbed his eyes with his fists, shoving the unloaded pistol in his waistband he made his way unerringly to the rich black coffee.

Is there tea too?" Quatre asked stretching like a cat.

"Mint," Trowa acknowledged.

"Jus' fine, I take some," The blond told him.

Rather than take a cup from the cupboard Trowa washed out the one he had been using and refilled it with tea for the other boy. Two spoonfuls of sugar, apparently Quatre liked his tea almost as sweet as Duo liked his coffee. I grimaced.

"Have you fellows no sense of decency?" Chang growled as he peered at his watch, through half-closed eyes—almost 6AM. "Can't you understand this is simply not a civilized hour to be awake?" With a reluctant sigh he arched his back and returned the books—there were several on the floor beside his chair as well as the one on his chest—to their places. If anyone had been resentful for him keeping the nightlight on half the night as he read, none of the others said anything. He rose stiffly arching his back and neck to work out the kinks and went into the bathroom.

"So, what's the plan for today Master N." Duo asked cheerfully.

I gave him a glare cold enough to ice his coffee. "DON'T call me that," I hissed. "I'm no master."

"Well, its peace time. We can't keep calling you lieutenant. People might get the idea that we're some kinda crazy kid soldiers or something. And Naught is not really a name. Heck, it's not even a number…even we've got numbers." Duo rolled his eyes.

"Rude Duo," Trowa frowned. "Remember what it feels like to be nameless…Before Solo you were what?"

"Nothing," The braided boy whispered with an understanding nod and scuffed a bear foot on the tatty carpet. "Sorry Sir…Naught," He apologized without meeting my gaze.

I wanted to tell him it was alright…though it didn't feel comfortable to attempt to explain my reaction. I was surprised Nanashi actually spoke up for me. I was even more surprised Duo listened. Then again, 0-3 so rarely said anything I imagine that when he did the others knew he felt strongly about whatever it was.

I only wished I WAS nameless. My hands clenched involuntarily and I rubbed my forehead with the flat of my palm. My brother had so enjoyed thinking up new variations of my name. I couldn't use any of them without thinking of him—my dearest friend—how I miss you!' my mind cried out I felt my twin's death again with every throb of my pulse. Crossing my arms against my chest I shuddered. Even after all the work I had done for the Makar, there was a significant part of me that despised what 'masters' had done to us.

I barely noticed when WuFei emerged from the bathroom and began bustling about the kitchen; frying up eggs and bacon. Quatre rummaged through the cabinets for toast and cereal. The young corporate executive tried to reassure me that he would replace all they used—and more, at the earliest opportunity.

"You want me to start a provisions list Winner?" Heero asked, reloading the gun before refilling his cup. I only nominally registered his order of priority…weapon, coffee, bullets…more coffee… heavily peppered eggs, and then he was ready to start the day—I'm not surprised J never figured it out…The Masters never REALLY cared what was important to their subjects…never took the time to learn what WE wanted…my mind was lost inextricably in the past.

Nanashi's deep green eyes stared out at me from beneath the long fringe of his hair. Those eyes had the same intensity as my brother's, was that why I'd always looked out for the nameless gipsy boy…Because he somehow reminded me of my Tre? I wondered.

"Lieutenant?" Trowa touched my arm with concern.

"I'm sorry," I admitted with a shake of my head. "I'm a very poor host. I'm just not any good at it." That had been my brother's venue. He had a way of dealing with people similar to that of a conductor leading an elite symphony orchestra…I was taught the down and dirty aspects a mechanic needs to manage and maintain finely crafted tools…five of them to be precise—Just boys.

"You're doing just fine," Heero said. "We're here to learn…If you tried to pamper us…I'd leave." Quick as a viper's strike 0-1 reached under WuFei's arm to snatch a piece of bacon from the frying pan with his fingers. He munched on it contentedly.

"So when's the next lesson Chief?" Duo smiled…back to his usual irrepressible attitude. Chief? I wondered and then shrugged. I guess it was better than being named a master. I let the title slide. Duo took my silence for acceptance and beamed. Patting the data pad, he informed me, "My turn next…what do you want do?"


	6. Lesson 2 Points of View

6: Lesson 2: Points of View

Since everyone seemed eager, and we were all gathered around the island, I figured this was as good a time as any to begin. "When you were first working with the gundams did any of your instructors explain to you about the Unrestricted Network Drive?" I asked.

WuFei dark gaze turned introspective and I knew if I were observing his readings I could see he was accessing his near encyclopedic mental library to reference what was likely presented to him as obscure technical data, but was in truth anything but. "That is part of the operating system that allows for fine motor control. Yes?" he answered finally.

"Generally yes…it is the part of the Gundam OS that could access the pilot's neural-link in the same way this pad obtained Quatre's physical and mental stats the gundams also kept tabs on your condition. But there were times in combat where the link was deeper. The OS was unrestricted because it could collect and interpret your neural impulses to predict your moves there by improving reaction time," I explained.

"Is that what made Zero dangerous?" Quatre asked absently rubbing his finger across a stain on the countertop.

I winced inwardly. ZERO was a painful subject and one I wasn't really ready to broach with them. "The UND was for the most part one way: from you mind to the tactical analysis program through the remote link. Things got dangerous when the reverse was also true. Today I wanted to show you that deeper level connection and types of data that can be acquired using it," I explained. "There is one thing that concerns me though."

"Which is?" Heero Frowned.

I sighed. "Have you ever connected a video camera to a monitor and pointed the lens into the screen?" I asked.

"Sure lots-a-times," Duo announced, "Isn't it the same thing as getting a microphone too close to the amp it is plugged into?" Duo asked, methodically binding up his hair in its characteristic thick braid. "You get reverb. Only instead of that mind numbing squeal…you get visual noise, all sorts of psychedelic spirally colors." The boy grinned wiggling his fingers in illustration.

"That is right," I told him. "This type of link provides a real-time record of exactly what is going on in your head. It records images of the world as you perceive it. I don't want to risk causing a similar feedback loop in your mind. Whoever the subject is will have to leave for a bit."

"Do you know for sure that is what would happen?" Duo asked. I was getting better at reading his expressions and the look on his face revealed that he really didn't want to miss anything. I thought it possible remembered my outburst of earlier and wanted to be sure I was not using the opportunity to send him away because I was angry with him.

I put my hand on the boys arm and made eye contact so he would know I was telling the truth when I told him; "I don't know for sure what will happen. I doubt very much it would be like looking in a mirror…or even a hall of mirrors in a fun house. Imagine watching yourself looking at a screen, seeing how your mind perceives the screen portraying the images in your mind, of how you perceive the screen portraying the thoughts as they occur in your mind…To my knowledge it has never been done before. You might be fine…you might go cationic…I can't say…But I value you too much to risk finding out. Do you still want to do this?" I asked.

The braided boy shrugged, "We ALL want to know. It is my turn. I guess I can wait outside, or in the other room…while you're poking around. If you guys find anything fun rattling around in this old bean of mine…you will tell me right?" he asked hopefully.

"You won't miss anything," I promised. "I will be recording the entire session. It is perfectly safe for you to watch the tape; I know there is no risk in THAT. I just think it is best if you don't see the feed in real time," I explained. "You won't be board waiting. I've got an errand you can run that will make this lesson more interesting and help with the next as well. While you're at it, I'll activate the link. You shouldn't feel anything but we will be able to know everything you do."

I turned on the pad and showed him a map of the streets surrounding my apartment. "Here on the corner there is a pawn shop. Good street-rats don't get lost. I'm sure you'll have no difficulty finding your way there and back. Take your time, enjoy yourself." I opened the drawer and sorted through some receipts and handed him the claim ticket and some cash. "Your mission is to pick up what I've left and bring it back—that is it."

"All-righty-O." Duo nodded snooping up the cash and ticket and pocketed them, then—with a simple salute—he briskly walked out the front door. I keyed the interface sequence and input the 'record' command, then opened the data frame. A red dot labeled 0-2 appeared on map of the street grid and easily traced Duo's exact location and progress.

I made that window smaller so it would not distract from the "Point Of View" display showing exactly what 0-2 was seeing: presently, the front of my apartment with its the faded green door, the rusty fence, the sidewalk which was cracked and uneven. Apparently Duo found a penny in the gutter and crouched to pick it up. He rubbed the tarnished coin on his shirt sleeve and put it in his pocket then continued on his way.

I was worried about the boys' reaction to what I viewed as just about the most blatant invasion of privacy possible. I did not expect Heero's calculated assessment that, "This has definite potential for undercover ops. Command would know immediately if something went wrong and what the situation entailed." He pointed to the map with the location indicator. "We know the operatives exact location and could send backup before a situation got out of hand."

WuFei agreed, "Any wire or tracking device I've ever seen could potentially blow someone's cover. Having it is sometimes as dangerous as going into a situation without backup. The resulting footage is never as clean and the device can't be discovered or deactivated. Does it have audio pick up too?" he wanted to know.

"So long as he is conscious we can see what he sees. And if he is not we can still locate him on the grid." I turned up the speaker output and we could hear Duo humming quietly to himself. A car sped by with a noticeable valve tap and somewhere a baby cried.

"What is this?" Quatre asked pointing to a scroll of text racing along the bottom of the screen.

I winced, realizing this was another questionable facet of the remote link. "Those are Maxwell's surface thoughts," I explained slowing down the text so it would be easier to read: _"One…two…three…four…left turn…"_ the braided pilot was counting the houses as he passed.

Still none of the pilots reacted negatively when they realized the masters had been privy to their very thoughts…I wondered if perhaps the Makar placed a failsafe in them to make them more accepting of the situation. It was something I'd have to look in to.

Watching 0-1 looked baffled as 0-2's thoughts scrolled across the screen I felt it necessary to explain, "Some of you are more…focused…than others, 0-2 is a good example of this particular feature because he always has a tremendous number of very different things going on in his head at any one time."

I expanded the text bar to reveal the next few layers of thought. _"Street rat…Chief wants me to find my way as street rat, I can do that. Yup, yup…I sure can…I know streets. I can make things…interesting."_ The young man hopped a rusted fence, scooted through a back alley, and ran up a fire escape. Soon he was slipping effortlessly from roof top to roof top. The physical readings showed the increase in heart rate due to the activity.

The third row projected the cool and calculating thoughts of the Shinigami; _"Good place for a sniper, good cover…good line of sight. Street isn't wide enough for heavy artillery. Railings rusted. Can hold my weight but would definitely slow down pursuers…negligible chance of that on this assignment. Hypothetically, if I were cordoning off the area I would could place motion detectors here…and here; May be a trip wire there…cameras…no mines, purely passive…no risk to civilians."_

I showed them how to tell which thought line was prominent at any given instant. Duo dangled over the side of the roof and dropped down to the rusted balcony climbed over to the roof of a shed and jumped back to the ground. Then his focus shifted from third to the first level and he started skipping.

The first channel was reciting a silly little rhyme about a farmer and his dog. The second was wondering if he enough money to buy a doughnut...or a bunch of doughnuts. The third was keeping a weary look out for potential threats in what was obviously not the best part of town. 'Move faster' it cautioned 'Head down…let them underestimate you. Be ready…be ready.'

"He's not a split-personality is he?" WuFei asked warily, it seemed he was wondering if the braided boy could possibly get any stranger.

Heero was also looking dubiously at the seemingly diametrically opposed thought streams. On a fundamental level…his mind worked in entirely different than 0-2. It was no wonder they found it difficult to get along. 0-1's intense eyes lingered on the third line. I suspected he was relieved that though he didn't act on it often, Duo had not lost his Shinigami side completely. I could understand Heero might feel relieved to know that deem down there was a part of the braided boy that thought in the same language he did.

"He's just multi-tasking," I explained, "Duo is VERY good at that. Though I expect you can understand why he comes across as scatterbrained sometimes. These are just his surface thoughts…the link can go much deeper, but I would need serious justification to invade his thoughts like that." My conscience was pricking me enough as it was.

"Going deeper hurts," Heero admitted in a quiet whisper rubbing the back of his neck. "But you can make him focus more on one line over the others can't you," He hypothesized…or perhaps remembered.

"I can influence but he has the ability to overrule that influence," I explained as Duo obtained the battered case and paid for the merchandise then started on his way back.

"Let's test that," Heero said quietly, perhaps remembering how difficult it was to resist—being managed. "On my mark I want you to trigger the second line hard and hold that influence for a ten second burst," there was a note of command in 0-1's voice as he said it.

"But why…" I started but He ignored me.

"Ready…" 0-1 said as he read the scrolling thoughts, "On Five…." A guy on a motorcycle drove past and 0-2 whistled low at the gleaming chrome machine. "Four…" The visual recorded the boy rounding the corner of a building. "Three…" Duo was humming again. "Two" Heero checked the red dot on the map marking the boy's location," "NOW!" He said finally.

I switched Duo's focus as Heero directed. The only thing the second line said was _"Hnmmmnmnm,"_ but I saw he focused on the thought for precisely 10 seconds. Without warning the braided boy pivoted on his heel and bolted off at a 45 degree angle from that which he had been traveling. "What?!" I wanted to know as Duo slipped into an open door. A bell chimed over the audio pick up and I released my hold only to see the boy's visual tilt crazily as he bent to retrieve a few bills concealed in a slit in the lining of his shoe. When he stood straight again the visual recorded he was in the pastry shop quickly picking a grand selection of doughnuts.

"Mission accomplished." 0-1 smiled smugly.

"That's not right, Heero, you know he keeps that money for emergencies. Having it makes him feel safe. It is a street urchin thing." Quatre frowned. Winner Heir had been sheltered from all forms of poverty growing up. But he tried very hard to understand and accept that it had been quite different for his braided friend.

"So we'll pay him back," WuFei volunteered with a shrug. "Was that a Bavarian cream he just picked out? Can I have that one?"

"I get the jelly then," Trowa quietly conceded.

"Guys, He's got 2 dozen. That is 4 for each of us and two extras if they give him 13 instead of 12—I won't eat that many. There is no need to fight."

"Who's fighting, I'm not fighting, just staking a claim," WuFei declared.

"The fight comes later…because you know Trowa and I both like the cream ones," Heero informed him.

"Why don't you split it," the blond suggested, ever the peace-maker. "That way you can all have some."

"You don't CUT filled doughnuts." WuFei glared as if the idea was close to being sacrilegious.

"Too messy," Heero agreed and I got the idea he was only being contentious because he knew it would rile the blond.

Quatre realized it as well. He rolled his eyes and sighed.


	7. The Bigger Picture

7: The Bigger Picture

The six of us piled back in the van. Really my place was much too small for so many people…and not very secure. I knew where I should have taken them but had somehow managed to convince myself they might find the apartment less intimidating. I glanced down at the brown leather case Duo had retrieved from the pawn shop…I still wasn't sure how I'd been able to part with the pieces even temporally. They were a part of my past. A past I had avoided far too long.

The ESUN Veteran's Registration & Reintegration Act stipulated that; regardless of former affiliation or rank, Soldiers would not be held accountable for activities perpetuated during wartime if they chose to fully accept the peace and worked to support it. Generally that meant that the government kept a file on you and made sure you stayed out of trouble and helped you find work which would benefit society.

The V.R.R program was not heavy handed as one might expect. The government did not go to any great trouble to discover who did what during the war or whether or not the names we'd registered under actually belonged to us…In return for that consideration and continued anonymity we, for the most part, dutifully kept the conditions of release and endured self-imposed exile from the avenues of power to win free of the stigma that overshadowed every aspect of the war.

I had not wanted to come back but bringing the boys to this place was the best option. My dreadfully depleted funds forced me to walk a thin-line at times; in this instance though, I didn't think I had anything to worry about. I had been paid for my last consulting job and 0-2 had my things safely back again. I had worried about loosing them to be sure but few people would recognize the items I had been desperate enough to barter, and those that did would consider them nothing more than hopelessly dated toys. The point was moot anyway. I gazed at the battered leather case and couldn't help smiling at the bitter-sweet memories it contained.

The braided boy was still going on about the results of the last test. His questions came at a mile a minute: "So I am a master of multi-tasking am I? What is the most trains you've noticed in the fabulous roundhouse of my mind? How come I'm not aware of them all, all the time? I'm still in control right? Can I have another doughnut?" Duo asked bouncing up and down in the passenger seat like a puppy.

"To answer your last question first…no I am not giving you any more sugar," I told him definitively. "How many trains: Ten, I think—Nice analogy by the way, I didn't think you knew much about pre-colonial railways." I pulled the van out into the steady midday traffic. "Finally, you only focus on what is most important at a given time but can drift from line to line prioritizing instinctively as a situation unfolds. That is what multi-tasking is all about. And yes, you do it very well…mostly. But you need to remember you know only a fraction of what is going on in your head…others don't even have that advantage. They have less chance of judging what motivates you, than you do…and that is why they get frustrated with you."

"Chief's talking 'bout you again Heero…do I bother you with my brilliant mind Mr. Yuy? Do I? Do you call me Baka just because you aren't capable of following my superior intellect Hmmmm?" Duo taunted the tussle-headed boy in the back seat.

From the middle seat, WuFei leaned forward grabbed the Duo's braid and yanked it. "Shut-up Maxwell!"

"Ow..ow..ow…owwe, leggo! No more doughnuts for you either," The boy whined. But as soon as he managed to regain control of his tail his goofy smile returned in full force. "Wuffers feels intimidated by my smarts." He hugged himself in contentment. The comment earned Duo another steely glare, but I was surprised when the young dragon did not condemn the assertion outright.

I had been in 0-5's mind and knew he had nothing to be self conscious about, especially in matters of intellect. WuFei was a scholar, with photographic recall of pretty much anything he read. 0-1 and 0-3 had better recollection of actual people, places, things or situations…but if it was recorded, WuFei could master it in moments. I was about to comment something to that effect when Duo suddenly stopped babbling and looked suddenly thoughtful. Although I'd just finished showing the others how cleverly 0-2 'shunted his trains of thought' it still caught me by surprise.

Duo frowned slightly and played with the tip of his braid, brushing the chestnut colored tuft against his cheek. "Ya know it is a bit creepy thinking that you can peek into our heads whenever you want…but I can see the value. If I'm thinking something, I generally tell the rest of you…whether you want to hear it or not. But…as the man says, you aren't like me.

We all know there's got to be something going on behind Tro-man's curtain of hair. If we could set our pagers to pick up the remote signal, we could know what's really troubling T. Silence 's just not natural ya know." "Even Q says keepin it all in s' not healthy," he explained quietly. "If we knew what was the matter we could help."

"Silence is not natural for YOU Duo. But that doesn't mean…" I tried to tell him…but the boy cut me off with a question.

"You knew him a long time, right Boss—" What was it with this boy and nick-names? I wondered but didn't try to interrupt. "—longer than any of us. Why IS he so quiet? Is that the Makar's fault too? Did they mess him up?"

It had been a legitimate question and he had directed it to me. "Do you mind if I tell him Nanashi?" I asked, knowing better than to expect a verbal response I adjusted rearview mirror so I could see him nod. From the puzzled expression on his face I wondered if Master S had…encouraged…0-3 to forget what had been the likely start of his reticent ways. The green eyes glimmered and he shrugged.

Having been given the go-ahead, "It is quite simple really," I continued noting Heero sat forward in his seat a bit, taking more interest in what I was going to say than his half-eaten doughnut. WuFei and Quatre looked equally intrigued. "First let me say Nanashi was quiet to begin with," I explained. "but it got worse when he was…what, about nine?" I asked. A backwards glance showed Trowa's slight nod—I suppose he did remember.

"I was just starting military training, barely older than you are in fact, when there was…an incident…involving certain officers of a mercenary group contracted to help train us. Our boy no name was a frightful mess and getting his jaw wired shut—after being broken in three places—wasn't the worst of it. Master S was a fine surgeon and he was called to put the kid back together. Everyone was impressed by our Nanashi and the Makar was no different. I imagine that was why he got considered for the gundam project two years later," I explained recalling how proud the rest of the unit was. At the time, I knew a bit more about the project than most and I could only hope his experience would be a positive one.

"What happened to the men that hurt him?" Quatre asked glowering darkly.

"I don't know." I sighed, "We begged and pleaded for him to tell us who had beaten him. We wanted to see justice done. Even after all he had been through, our 'No Name' was…shall I say…tight lipped about the whole affair."

"It's past." Trowa frowned, "Forget it."

"It changed you," I told him, "We all knew it. You even looked different. I suppose it was understandable that after four months of liquid diet all the soft edges melted away leaving you the beginnings of that long lean shape. But it was more than that. You carried yourself differently and even after you healed, those long silences were as much a part of you as that limber frame."

Quatre looked pale. He was closer to Trowa than the others and had no idea that his friend had hid something like this from him…from them all. There was, clearly, more to the story than even I knew. But, unless they got it direct from his mind, as Duo's suggested, we would not be able to pry it from the taciturn young man. So, like a good diplomat, Winner changed the subject, "So that is why you buy those horrible protein shakes all the time?" he asked with visible shudder.

"I like them," The green eyes boy muttered.

"You wouldn't be anemic if you drank one now and again, Quatre," Heero interjected. Doctor J had seen Heero had other reasons to become acclimated to a liquid nutrient during his years of training. I saw how he enjoyed having variety in his diet now but apparently, 0-1 hadn't slipped his training so far that he avoided taking up the old routine every so often either.

"I tried one…I thought it was a strawberry milkshake…I was wrong. Once is enough, thank you," The blond announced crossing his arms petulantly. "If I want something like that I'm mixing it myself with fresh-fruit and ice cream, maybe yoghurt. No chalky powders, no chemicals I can't pronounce just natural things."

"Eggnog is good…I liked when you made that," Heero told the blond. "You can get protein that way."

We pulled into the parking lot of what appeared to be vacant warehouse and I turned off the engine. Trowa…WuFei you two are up next. Same as Duo, you'll have to watch the recording after the exercise is finished. This is going to be a battle simulation with an open feed. We'll be watching, of course."

We got out of the van and Quatre found a shady spot and spread the big picnic blanket on the grass. Heero sat on one edge with the data pad. I had shown them enough that He felt secure in logging into the general menu screen and setting up the session. The icons had all been labeled so he knew which would open the pertinent screens and could avoid his own.

We had all agreed that no one would work on the pad without everyone knowledge and at least one other person acting as observer. This accountability hopefully ensured no one inadvertently did anything the others might regret. They said I was still free to do what I believed to be in their best interest but as a rule I hoped to follow the same protocol they had set.

"There are internal cameras in the place…Duo would you mind setting up a standard false-feed to the security company and route the real images to me? OO8-3Z is the transfer code," I told him.

"Sure thing Boss." The boy grabbed his tools from the back of the van, turned his baseball cap backwards, and headed off the junction box on the side of the building. "All set!" he called back a few moments later wiping his hands on his black jeans—which I noted were freshly speckled with powdered sugar from the doughnut he wasn't supposed to eat.

"Contact established," Heero announced when a screen containing the security feed sprang to life.

I opened the leather case Duo had procured and removed the two lovingly tended laser-tag guns. The sleek black weapons were perfectly balanced and molded to fit comfortably into the hand. The trigger action was smooth without being loose. I sighed, lost in the past for a moment. The two practice weapons were almost identical but I could tell them apart instantly. Mine was marked with a double-O on the grip and a silver pinstripe along the barrel. I handed the piece to Chang. The other, my brother's, had a line of gold and triple-Z I let Nanashi use—doing so the other way seemed decidedly…inappropriate.

"Don't let anything happen to these lads…they have great sentimental value," I told them.

"I remember reading about this game on the internet…it used to be popular in the pre-colony days. Don't they need little target modules to keep track of the hits or something?" Duo asked.

"Believe me; these are very special guns, and you boys should have no difficulty using them. You will know if you are hit: four non-lethal hits are equal to a kill. This is a battle SIM in every sense of the word. The link removes the need for a VR chamber. Remember when I showed you the levels of mental activity on Quatre's File? Your senses will be enhanced, set firmly in the red level, they will not revert to normal till the simulation is completed…but try to remember some of what you experience will be the result of the feed. It will not be real."

"We play inside?" Trowa's raised eyebrow made the phrase a question since his tone seemed decidedly neutral.

"Yes, you will have the entire warehouse to fight in. It will be dark. Once you are inside I will set up a level four connection. That is stronger than the one we used with Duo. You will likely feel strange…there will be some disorientation. I suggest you sit and wait it out. The objective is to locate the facility's fuse box and flip all the switches to green...while preventing your opponent from doing so as long as you can. The weapons are for sniping…You are also encouraged to go hand-to-hand. You will know when to begin. Any other questions?" I asked.

"Couldn't we use one of MY warehouses?" Quatre asked as if he felt something about the situation seemed off—perhaps he was concerned about compromising his friends' V.R.R parole standing over something as seemingly innocuous as a breaking and entering charge or it might be that he just didn't trust me—I could understand that.

"It's vacant. The people it used to belong to aren't around anymore," I tried to reassure the blond who usually acted as the group's conscience. "The only reason it has security at all is because they don't want kids getting inside and possibly getting hurt."

"And we are…what?" Chang frowned. "I promised Commander Une…and Agent Po that I would not break any laws, or any bones, while I was on leave. It is not honorable to use my Preventer's badge to keep us out of trouble. Winner could probably buy the property without any difficulty—It is just a mangy old barn."

Quatre nodded and took out his phone, supposedly planning on making the arrangements immediately. It must be something to know you could tap that kind of funds to purchase a sizable building with no preamble what so ever. But I stopped him. "You likely could buy this property, and that might eventually be the safest course of action, but not right this moment. There is more here than meets the eye." I took a deep breath. My plan had been to teach them about their pasts—not about mine. But it didn't seem like I had much choice.

"Duo's work with the security camera is enough to keep us from getting caught. But if we were, I doubt very much WuFei's commander would object to you doing recon here." I told them reluctantly. "The warehouse is a cover. This is an abandoned Romefeller facility once known as Renada Research and Development the actual base is below us."

The words came easier than I thought they would, and the boys didn't seem ready to kill me outright, so I continued: "I am the only one left with any sort of claim to this place, though I couldn't say who holds the deed. It was my home for many years before I was transferred to the military."

The lads said nothing, letting my words sink in. Could I tell them the rest? I wondered biting my lip. It was presuming quite a lot on what ever commands the masters had written into the boys making them so accepting of everything I shared with them so far. But I had to risk it. With a deep sigh and a down turned gaze I explained;

"When I used my DNA to prove Quatre was natural born…I proved that I wasn't. I bear the mark of the Makar just as you do. My brood-mate and I used to play in the warehouse, those were our weapons. He is gone now and I didn't want to come back…not alone…but I thought it might be best for you to learn the extent of your limits and abilities the same way we did."

"Let's get on with it then." Trowa didn't seem at all fazed by my confession. He simply nodded feeling the weight of the practice weapon in his hand. He sighted 0-5 down the pinstriped barrel. An odd smile quirked at the corner of his mouth…It looked as if he was going to enjoy this.


	8. Lesson 3 Face Off

8: Lesson 3: Face Off

The two young men easily jogged over to the metal door. I could pick that lock in my sleep and I expected any of the lads could as well but as it turned out we didn't need to. Even after ten years the override keycard—stolen from an inattentive keeper—still worked, and the two former pilots entered unopposed.

Heero, Duo, Quatre and I sat on the blanket with the Data pad set between us. Once the security cameras showed door open to admit the shadowy figures I keyed the command sequence. I left the windows charting the vitals of both boys and the screens showing what they experienced open, then keyed in the command sequence. Their vitals spiked, sending both boys to their knees. Then chart recorded a rush of adrenalin as the link brought them forcibly into that heightened state of battle-awareness.

"What?" Duo gasped over my shoulder as he realized that though the security feed stayed dim…the individual POV feeds brightened considerably—as the pilots enhanced night vision kicked in. Next…without the aid of smoke, mist or filters of any kind a complex array of red security laser beams became apparent floor to ceiling and at angled intervals in-between. Some were stationary others shifted slowly in a sweeping motion. "What was this place…Fort Knox? The American exclaimed in surprise.

I said the only thing I could. "Its home."

I opened a small text window and typed: Begin 0-3 and 0-5's thought records echoed the word and both young men surged into action. Matching the martial-artist with the acrobat had been a good decision. The three different visual angles recorded a fascinating display of combat experience as they wove in and out of the maze of lasers beams.

Every now and again one of them got off a shot. The combatants saw the red beams streaking towards them…the security camera did not. Trowa took the first hit on his upper arm. His auditory pick up caught his quick intake of breath and the physical chart registered that he felt the burn…not much but it was noticeable. Trowa sucked his breath through his teeth and held the injured limb to his chest but his adrenalin level spiked also encouraging him to ignore the pain.

"Look at them go,"Quatre whispered in awe, as Chang's visual recorded 0-3 rocketing towards him in a complex series of acrobatic flips, each placement of hand or foot easily avoiding the network of beams. When they collided Trowa's point of view recorded 0-5's consummate skill and choreographed moves as he desperately tried to avoid the furious chops, kicks and jabs of the other boy's attack. The two opponents were evenly matched and watching them tangle resulted in an amazing display.

When WuFei backed into one of the laser beams he yelped in pain. Trowa's visual confirmed the fabric pant leg had been seared through. The martial-artist obtained a noticeable limp and his strength reserve diminished as a result of the hit—still the battle continued at a furious pace. Trowa swept out his foot to strike at the other boy's uninjured leg, it was a near miss. WuFei, the paragon of honor and virtue, did the unthinkable; he drew his weapon and shot the dancing acrobat in the leg…at point blank range—"To even the match," he said.

Trowa cried out in surprise, pain…and frustration as his opponent raced off to locate the objective. 0-3 was down…his knee having collapsed under him. A quick glance at his forearm told him when he tried to break his fall he started the earlier wound bleeding. With an inarticulate yell he fired repeatedly at the retreating figure. An angry red beam took 0-5 in the shoulder blade sending him to the ground as well. The two youths groped and scrambled their way toward the control box. A red haze of pain clouded both visual images.

Outside Quatre's voice was thick with emotion and he clutched his chest. "They're getting hurt!"…We need to stop them!" he demanded. 0-1 and 2 looked equally agitated. How could they just sit by munching doughnuts while their companions were locked in a life and death contest with one another?

"It is just a SIM…remember?" I tried to reassure them. "It is all in their minds." With a quick key sequence I brought up the map indicating the location of both boys. It placed both dots just outside the ring indicating each combatant's threat range…Like movie stuntmen their strikes and punches couldn't possibly connect.

I remotely altered the view of the security camera which, though grainy confirmed the same. The maze of lasers is completely benign; the weapons I gave them generate only light and sound. It isn't real. But from the visuals of each young man and the way emotion, physical and mental indicators spiked with each hit…Trowa and WuFei certainly believed it was.

Both combatants reached the fuse box at the same second and it was a race to flip the switches. When the lights of the warehouse suddenly flared to life…both boys stood blinking in surprise. The memory of pain faded and both found themselves undamaged. "Woa." Chang breathed staggered, noticing his white garments, not to mention the skin of his flank were completely unscathed. Trowa too examined his forearm as if t were an alien thing…there was no sign of blood, just some slight tenderness not even a bruise.

"You see they are fine,"I said typing into the text screen Practice session complete…return Again the thoughts mirrored the message. I closed down the connection knowing they would obey.

"Who won?" Heero wanted to know before the other two rejoined us. The action happened so fast and there was so much confusion in the end…it was impossible to sort it out. I shrugged. "Don't worry, that is another reason I'm recording this. Once I take you down into the bunker we can use the tactical analysis lab to process the full record and we can slow it down, remove the distortion caused by the SIM and go over it at length. I expect none of you boys are truly aware of your full capabilities."

The cunning gleam I saw reflected in three sets of eyes told me that very soon the teens would be in a heated competition to learn just that…In the following days they would surely be striving with one another to improving their statistics and performance however they could. There really wasn't anything I could do about it. The boys had been well made—all shared the drive to be all they could be. Belatedly, I wondered if letting them know just these things wasn't such a good idea after all.


	9. Delaying Tactics

9: Delaying tactics

The hidden bunker was fully automated and practically hermetically sealed. When I squeezed my way past the tangle of red and gold rose bushes overgrown before the hidden door there was no question that the facility had been left undisturbed. In fact, it was like walking into a time capsule of my earliest memories. There was no dust; everything was exactly as I remembered. It was creepy. In the pages of my journal I had described my self as having been 'a homesick recruit' when I first met Nanashi. This was home…many of my experience had been…unpleasant…in much the same way as Heero's had been. But this had been HOME none the less…and that was due by in large to my brother.

To say I idolized him is not exactly an accurate description. We were parts of the same whole; genetically engineered twins raised to be soldiers of the old school, keepers of the keys to the future, or so the masters told us.

As twins we were as alike as we were different. He was bright, engaging, ambitious and charismatic. He was determined to live by the sword or die by it. I was his faithful shield-man; more sedate…more obedient, constant, dependable…drab. I was the one that urged him to caution. He claimed it was my noble spirit that was his guide. But the masters' took him away…set him on a path to a destiny he could not reject…I could not protect him…not from them…not from himself. And now he was dead.

I trembled, entering those halls again. But the boys were there. Is it wrong to admit that I drew strength from their presence? That Duo's infectious smile lightened my spirit. Quatre's quiet optimism helped banish the ghosts that flitted about my mind. WuFei's determination drove me onward. I was able to regard the place I had known so well through new eyes…as it was reflected in Nanashi's curious emerald gaze. And Heero; I could see the place haunted him as surely as it did me. It was too similar to the lab on L1—my old protectiveness sprang alive with a vengeance.

Heero caught my arm from behind, silently urging me to let the others get a bit further down the hall. "I know why we are here," He told me.

Honestly, I wasn't quite sure why I was here…so I had no notion of what he could mean. I suppose he read the puzzled expression on my face because he continued with out waiting for me to respond.

"We are here because you need to show the others what the direct link can do. You know I am the best subject for that."

"No, Heero…I won't, I can't," I objected. He would fight…he always fought. Even if his body did not…his mind always resisted that kind of…involvement. He would fight with everything he had…and it would hurt him. I wasn't willing to do what Master J had to subdue him.

"You will. You must. I knew from that first jolt when Trowa stumbled into my mind that this would be the result. I knew it when we decided not to let you destroy the data pad. Everything you have been showing us culminates in this. I don't pretend to know even a fraction of what they did to me. But I know the link and the files on that pad are the only way to find out."

"What about the archive. I can show the others sessions from before…The war is over. You should never have to go through that again," I insisted, clenching my fists.

The boy turned me around and put a hand on each of my shoulders. His midnight-blue eyes looked up into mine—unblinking. "Your records said that after incident with Barton. J attempted to fix me in the in the infirmary. When the…damage was done it had to have been done through the direct link…in the lab. Why didn't he use the same method to fix it? He didn't want to that is why. Jay could do things within the link that made me little more than a living computer. No matter how I fought he could input what he wanted…or delete it. Dr J left that flaw as a way to control me…that guilt was an intentional crack he allowed in my armor—I want it gone, expunge it."

"It is not that simple Heero. I don't know if I can…too much time has passed. The memory is a part of you now, like Nanashi's silences," I whispered. "I can't change a fundamental aspect of who you are. Compassion is not a weakness, regardless of how you feel about it."

Heero's voice was as cold and emotionless as I'd ever heard it…but his dark eyes blazed like anthracite. "I've got plenty of remorse from things I actually DID during the war—I killed a ship full of peacemakers. I don't need anymore nightmares about something that never happened. Prove to me that that girl and her dog aren't dead, or make me forget them. Either way, you'll have to use the direct link to find out which parts of what they made me believe were real—and what was spawned in Dekim's twisted-black heart," It was the righteous indignation practically dripping off his words that finally convinced me to do as he asked. "I don't want to be a prisoner anymore."

The masters never cared what we thought…never listened when we tried to tell them. They were the masters…we were the subjects…Who understood ZERO better than us? They conceived the system…it was birthed in us. My twin and I had crouched, huddled in the darkened office with a penlight breathlessly studying reports THEY believed we had no business reading. Death after death recorded in black and white and they did not listen. Even after the 'Noembreux Debacle' proved the Masters didn't know how to use what they had taken from us—they did not look for new answers. I shook my head—I AM NOT a master—I WILL listen.

-------

Of course, Listening was not the same thing as acting. For five days the six of us occupied my childhood home and I neglected to peruse the matter Heero had spoke of. I told him I needed time. And it was the truth. I don't know how much the boys could tell, but being home had a profound effect of me.

First let me tell you that staying at RR&D was much more comfortable than my apartment ever was. There was more to a Romefeller facility than sterile laboratories and glass walled containment cells. There were classrooms, VR chambers, a fully equipped gymnasium, pool, zero G recreation-facility, and automated cafeteria…carefully restocked curtsy of Winner and Chang. Beyond the antiseptic confines of the training facility were comfortable quarters, plush studies, lounges libraries and records rooms meant for the use of those who directed and administered the research conducted at RR&D.

Like natural children by brother and I had excelled in pushing our boundaries and discovered the penalties for reaching beyond them. We knew the facility inside and out. Walking these halls again brought those memories alive in full force. We had been taught many things here but most important lessons we had to learn all on our own. In the darkness while our masters and keepers slept, we did all we could to discover what we were…and why.

The five boys, I'd like to think, had it a bit easier that Tre and I did. I tried to be supportive and completely honest with them, encouraging them to test their own boundaries; mental and physical both. The exercises my brother and I came up with on our own or under the direction of our handlers proved just as effective for the five ex-pilots—as I predicted competition was intense at times.

The boys wanted complete workups detailing every facet of their condition and I held nothing back. We spent many hours in the tactical room. Display screens covered the walls and it was possible to have all the boys' records and test results open at once to explore and compare. My data pad…and the stronger computer system on the facility had not gotten such a workout in years. I could practically feel the active link humming through the purified air as the five boys sought to gather all the data they could about themselves and each other and each had their records copied to coded data disks they wore on a chain around their neck, like a dog tag.

One surprise was that when I plugged my pad into the mainframe we noticed where there were six icons indicating a remote link had been established rather than five. A seemingly duplicate had appeared. investigating the one—now correctly labeled 'Ø-8'— taught me, with mind numbing clarity, that I was just as vulnerable to…interference as the lads were. I had always thought my own connections were too primitive to maintain the remote link for more than an hour or so, for such had been the case when I was a child. But apparently my implants had become stronger and better integrated as I aged…as had my brother's.

This was illustrated all the more clearly when the boys located a passive analysis program my brother and I programmed into the mainframe was still active. The two of us were under no illusion our keepers would tell the truth if we asked what they were doing to us and the program had been an attempt to learn for ourselves. It hadn't worked very well and we forgot about it. But apparently that also changed as we got older. Though the facility was abandoned the computer continued to monitor and take periodic snapshots recording and charting our physical, mental and emotional development. It was with some excitement that I transferred both files to data disks of my own so that I could study them at length.

Being able to look back at various stages in my own development was…enlightening. But having access to my own active link proved too much of a temptation. Ignoring my own advice morbid curiosity carried me to the brink and beyond. Still it was surprising how far into ones own record it was possible to delve before one is forced to spend the afternoon nursing an incredible headache. I was reasonably sure the boys had done nothing to take advantage of my…connection and they had been careful not to mention the incident again. I was grateful that they choose not to pry but would not have blamed them if they had.

Even so, I wasn't the only one who decided to experiment. Quatre and Trowa discovered that it was possible to copy one persons 'mind set' and then superimpose it on someone else's thought pattern. The result was 0-3 enthusiastically explaining, "I FEEL Quatre." The tall lad, hugged himself. "I mean, I can feel, how he feels. I am still me inside but it would be simple to just…let go."

Trowa was a consummate actor but this was something entirely different. The way he carried himself shifted, his posture, the angle of his head…how he motioned with his hands as he spoke all effortlessly mirrored 0-4. "As long as I choose to hold HIS pattern in his mind I can experience His optimism, his strength, his…Cat, I never knew you felt so insecure!" Trowa gasped his eyes wide with surprise. "There is no need." Trowa actually tearing-up as he spoke, "You are fine just as you are…amazing in fact. You see things with such clarity!" The tall boy put his arm around the blond and hugged him tight. "I envy you. I do, really!"

The others were not accustomed to seeing their green-eyed friend so demonstrative and said so. But it was clear that the result had impressed them. Duo was the only one who tried to put it in words "Ya know," he said "They say you can't sprint far in another dudes trainers…but we can. So which is it…loafers…sandals…combat boots or sneaks who wants to go for a run?"

And over the next day or so…they all did. But I am afraid they made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone the trouble they got into because of it. I keep my promises so you are going to have to ask them. I can tell you it was…unsettling for bit, but soon things quieted and Heero would not let me delay any longer.


	10. Lesson 4 Haunting Memories

10: Lesson 4: Haunting Memories

----------------------------

Days passed slowly and finally Heero informed me that we had put off the inevitable long enough. It was time I showed the others the difference between the active link and the direct link.

I can do this. I told my self for the fifth time in the past hour. The other four pilots crowded around heero, trying to talk him out of attempting something I obviously felt so uncomfortable with. I could tell he wasn't listening.

Heero sat on the lab table mechanically affixing the tangle of sensors to the pallid flesh of his chest and moved systematically downward. The thin material of his skin tight shorts would not hinder the signal. That was why they had been his usual attire so much of the time during his training that he continued wearing them well into the beginning of the war.

Before a session, Doctor J always had Heero do most of the prep work himself; and not just because the Master was lazy. It was a lesson in discipline, a test of the boy's obedience…but on a more practical level…Heero knew where the connection nodes were under his flesh…he could tell when the adhesive pad was properly positioned over it. His movements were crisply efficient as always.

My stomach lurched within me. Every fiber of my being screamed I should be on that table and not him. But it wasn't my decision. It was Heero's. He had made his wishes known. But I did not like it. He was going to fight. He was going to try to drive the probe out of his mind…regardless of how much he consciously wanted…needed the information only I could unearth, regardless of how much pain he experienced as a result. 0-1 would not be able to help himself. The Makar had instilled that 'fight' instinct too deeply in their perfect soldier and there was no help for it now.

Heero pushed the others away as he slipped off the table…the wires and IV wouldn't let him go far but he could still adjust the table, forming it into a more concave angled chair shape that would cradle his body in such a way to hold him secure even if the restraints didn't. He had managed to thrash himself free on several occasions…usually breaking bones in the process.

It was not coincidence the chairs configuration resembled the pilots couch of a gundam…they had been designed by the same mind after all. 0-1 eased himself back down. He snapped his ankles and into the restraints then buckled the five point harness over his shoulders and chest. "Will you finish it for me?" he asked his comrades.

"Is all of this necessary?" Quatre asked fussing with the bindings on the other boy's wrists "We aren't going to leave you. There is no need for us to be in the control room…our place is here."

"I'd rather you were with the lieutenant,"Heero announced resolutely, "He doesn't want to do this. But he has to. You can't let him back out before he's pushed me past the point of resistance." In a quieter voice he added, "From this side…it is not going to be pretty."

"Quatre and I will go," Trowa volunteered, "The rest of you can stay."

"Don't I get a say in this?" the blond asked.

"No,"the other four told him. They listened to the smaller boy in all occasions except when it came to his own safety. Studying the data we had acquired over the past few days made it abundantly clear 0-4 was far too sensitive to the feelings of those around him. The others had always seen the need to shield him as best they could. Now they knew that instinct was backed by concrete proof. He was connected to the others on a deeper level the link could only begin to calculate. If there was anything to this space-heart theory of his…being in close proximity to Heero's raging emotions at such a time might well kill him.

----------

In the lab at L-1 the direct feed was a cable that jacked directly into the socket grafted into the back of Heero's skull. A slight fold in the skin and the length of his hair made the aperture wholly invisible…it didn't even show up on x-rays or deep tissue scans. But it was there. I knew the other pilots had been implanted as I had been, but, due to the differing circumstances of their training I was unsure whether any of the others had discovered their own, carefully concealed connection ports.

Instead of the simple cable I choose to use the older variant where the connection cable was concealed within a helmet like cognition hood. It enclosed the head and blocked out all distractions. In addition the opaque visor would prevent the other pilots from witnessing the beads of sweat that would soon mar 0-1's normally impassive features.

I saw Heero's anguish-stricken visage enough to be grateful that as a boy, my face had been hidden from my brother's gaze during my time in the chair, and his from me. I did not expect Heero's gasp of surprise when I brought out the device that would permit the mainframe direct access not only to his thoughts and emotions but to the very fabric of his being.

"Epyon!" he exclaimed clearly recognizing of the design. I was confused. I had of course heard of the mighty battle suit. I had seen its twin-headed flight-form on the news feeds and speculated about its origins. But if that suit had an interface of this type than there was certainly more to the design than even OZ imagined. I could have kicked myself for not seeing it sooner.

"Just as there is an O's in a Heero…there must be a Z's in a Zechs!" Master K was a cryptic so-and-so…and my brother was even more so. If I'd been thinking along the right lines the word-play alone would have been as subtle as plasma cannon. I silently cursed clenching my fists impotently. Marquise was a Romefeller key—He had to be. The realization rocked me.

Now it was all the more necessary that I use the direct link on Heero, no matter how comfortable I had been accepting the lies, it was time to learn the truth. Forgive my rambling dear reader. I fear this makes little sense to you at present. I must admit that even here, in my journal this is difficult ground to cover. But I shall, I promise. But first things first…

--------------------------------

From the observation room I could see Duo and WuFei standing like sentinels beside their companion. They blocked most of Heero from view. I suspected this too was probably for Quatre's sake. But I could still see the boy's body tremble against the restraints as my hands flew over the touch screen. I called up various diagnostic screens and control tabs. Everything was connected to everything else and I would have to dig deep if I was to find what the matter was.

Heero could manipulate his heart rate, blood pressure and the like. I knew he had used those abilities to fool standard hospital monitoring devices into believing he was comatose when he was not giving him the opportunity to escape his captors during the war. But that ability caused him more harm than good this time. It was a constant battle to maintain the link as 0-1 tried to shut me out. His pain levels spiked again and again. I grit my teeth. Heero didn't yell…and for that I was grateful. I had heard 0-1 scream himself hoarse too many times--I hoped never to hear it again.

The presence of the other two young-men intruded on my dark thoughts. Quatre and Nanashi flanked me as close as possible. Both of the small blonde's hands rested on my shoulder and as I leaned forward in my seat to get a better view of the monitor Trowa leaned both elbows on the back of my chair. I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck. It occurred to me that perhaps the boys obtained some sort of comfort from the close proximity…or maybe they just wanted to be in the best position to kill me quickly if I did something untoward.

I had thought to connect to the mainframe myself to do the necessary adjustments mind-to-mind; I had the cable in my back pocket. J had me link directly into 0-1's subconscious once before early in his development I knew he could be subdued in that fashion. But among other things, it would mean experiencing Heero's pain more fully than Quatre was at the moment. From the tension practically radiating off the young blond at my side I imagine any deeper exposure—to the seething caldron that was Heero Yuy—would likely result in the mental equivalent of 3rd degree burns.

Finally, I had no choice but to key in the command that drove Heero's mind to seek refuge in unconsciousness where I could delve into the fabric of his mind without causing him unnecessary anguish. In that state of enforced REM he began inexorably to dream. By manipulating his mental readings through the direct link I could direct his dreams into the areas that most troubled him.

I carefully eased the emotional restrictions Doctor J had forged to keep him focused. Next I typed in the search parameters to identify the locus responsible for the snarl of rampant emotions Heero identified as impairing his ability and plaguing his rest. It didn't take too long.

The three of us stood in silence as we watched Heero's dream unfold on the screen before us. It was no different than the visual of Duo's walk to the pawn shop…or the battle SIM we recorded in the warehouse, excepting that it bore no relationship to what was actually happening in the lab.

Quatre reached over my arm. I could see his hand tremble as he selected the tab extending the thought bars beneath the visual record. Perhaps He expected to see readings like Duo's to convince himself things were not really as dire as they seemed.

Duo would likely get a huge kick out of the fact that when he asked Heero what he was thinking and the other boy replied 'Hn'…that truly described the extent of the activity in upper reached of his mind. Heero's first two lines were blank, showing nothing but the occasional punctuation. The third line looked more like a cardiograph tape…or the jagged line of a lie detector. I knew it represented raw data he absorbed from the world around him that had no precise verbal translation as it consisted purely of instinct. With 0-1 one had to dig deeper to find actual answers.

The fourth line held actual text; though the sentences were choppy they were directly related to what the screen showed. Mission objective…infiltration and demolition, Locale: OZ Weapons and munitions plant. Deploy charges, exit blast radius…personal concealment. Time elapse 2200 hours…trigger explosives, mission accomplished…return to base.

In correlation with the objectives he took note of the precise details of his surroundings; the air temperature…Security system. Guard rotation, Technical specs of the explosives…layout of the building complex itself and the relationship to the electrical and ventilation systems. The time elapsed till mission deadline. It was what one would expect from the compulsively meticulous Yuy when he was bent on completing a mission.

Several more blank lines followed unbroken but for but for a random word or two. The final line consisted entirely of what seemed like a tremendously long, complex, barcode. My hand groped toward the chord in my back pocket…bow I longed to capture that code but before I could truly examine what was buried deep in his subconscious, 0-1 reached the point in the dream sequence where he lost control—Blend in with locals and await proper time to trigger detonation.

Stage-one of the mission was complete. He felt the flush of relief. But the sensation didn't fade. Instead the upper levels of thought flared startling to life: recalling vivid description of all he perceived; the texture of grass on his skin and breeze caressing his hair. The screen tracked actions that were decidedly…un-Heero-like. He galloped across the field, laughing and turning cartwheels. He flung himself on the ground with reckless abandon and the boy's heightened senses set his mind ablaze. A small child approached him without fear. She was accompanied by a golden retriever puppy. She spoke to him and gave him a flower she had picked from the lawn.

It was a seemingly inconsequential event… but the screen charting his emotional involvement with what was happening was nearly off the charts certainly beyond what was considered "maximum allowable". I knew Doctor J permitted 0-1 to experience emotions with this intensity briefly, usually as reward for a job well done. But the job wasn't done. Still the record clearly registered escalating trend of feeling; innocence, contentment, pleasure, happiness, hope, trust…joy.

When the time came to detonate the OZ base he was still hyper aware. It did not prevent him from carrying out his mission but immediately he knew something was wrong. The resulting explosion was greater then should it should have been—and the wrong parts of the complex exploded. The concussive force took out a civilian housing…killing countless innocents, including the child he had met earlier; Anguish, despair, loss…regret...Chaos. The paradise he had been permitted to experience turned inexorably to swirling ash.

I knew Heero could not trust either the pleasure or pain associated with the images…There was no doubt that his reactions had been manipulated by outward forces. He was lulled into an artificial state of euphoria then purposely crashed; from the most spectacular mountain peeks to the depths of the most desolate wasteland.

I doubted any of the pilots, except possibly 0-3 would understand the ramifications of what had been done to Heero. But, I knew he had been trained to accept what ever was introduced to him when he was in this state as incontrovertible fact.

Now every time he replayed these things in his mind…tried to come to terms with them…the lies reinforced his feelings of hopelessness and self-hatred. This one event, more than any training I had seen him receive, was what drove 0-1 to see self-detonation as a valid option. If Dekim Barton wasn't already dead…I would have seen to it he had just cause wished he were.

"Poor boy," I whispered carefully readjusting the emotional settings. As much as I hated to make him relive that experience…I had to, the event looped again and again. I could not extricate the memory but with careful direction I could diminish the emotion that had been artificially entangled with it. 0-4 had a white-knuckled grip on my shirt sleeve. I understood why the blond inspires such protectiveness in his comrades. I too wanted to shield him from the horror the screen revealed but Heero needed my undivided attention.

We watched 0-1 struggle to lift the steel girders from the broken bodies of the girl and her family—only to fail—four times. Through Heero's eyes, we watched his trembling hands tare up the perfect sod. He buried the dog. Leaving an unsightly dark mound the place he experienced such joy.

After the horrific scenes repeated several times Trowa could stand it no more, he turned away. "I have to do something," He muttered his emerald gaze cast around the control room. He caught sight of another computer console. "Is that station linked in to what you are doing?" he asked when the scenario restarted again.

"No it's for research work," I replied as I made another round of incremental changes to warp and weft of 0-1's mind. Each time I lessened the emotional impact the memory had on him bringing it back in alignment with the sever bounds Doctor J set for him. It was agonizing I knew, but to try to do too much at once would cause him to imbalance yet again…possibly slipping into a coma.

"Is it connected to the web?" he asked.

"Y-yes," I answered uncertain as to what he was thinking.

"You think you can find out about the explosion…perhaps find out who the girl was?" Quatre asked excitedly. "I'm sure that would help Heero!"

"I'll make several screen captures and forward it to that console. The override code 000Z should get you access. Do what ever you can."

Several minutes later Trowa's voice quavered a bit when he requested," Quatre tell me if this is what I think it is."

The blonde's sharp intake of breath was enough to confirm the other boy's suspicion."


	11. Facing the Truth

11: Facing the Truth

When I was finally able to power down the link and return to the lab I found out why Heero had been…more composed, during his recent ordeal. From the observation room I had been able to see Chang and Maxwell kept hold of his hands the entire time…I assumed it was because they hoped that, even locked in unconsciousness, he would somehow sense he was not alone.

What I hadn't been able to see was the two pilots had also raised the helmet's visor and a twist of 0-2's rope-like braid was clenched between Heero's teeth like a great a great teething ring. "Simple but effective," I had to admit. Again I wondered why Doctor J had never thought to try such a measure. Perhaps some part of him had liked to hear 0-1 scream.

As I loosed the boy's restraints I earnestly hoped what I had done was enough…I certainly didn't want to put the boy through something like this any time in the near future…and hopefully not at all. I had set Heero's physical levels back to optimum and released some of the emotional restraints…making it easier for him to feel the positive aspects of emotion…without feeling overwhelmed of course. I hoped time would enable to relax them further with out interference from me...but that remained to be seen.

During the course of the session I managed to confirm some of the things I suspected earlier. It appeared I had much to talk about with the boy…some of it could prove rather…difficult. I gently wiped the sweat off 0-1's forehead and called him awake. That was the signal he had been trained to accept freeing him to return to consciousness.

His Prussian-blue eyes fluttered and Duo hastily regained possession of his braid…frowning slightly as he examined it for damage. It took less time that I had expected for Heero to become lucid again. "How do you feel?" I asked knowing his head must be pounding. The only time I had ever seen him cry was after a particularly long session with the direct connection.

"Functional," He rasped weakly. "Not as bad as other times…I think Zero taught me to…handle…this sort of thing better than I used to."

I was surprised he would bring up the very subject I had been meaning to discuss. But now was not the time. First things first Duo and Trowa carefully transferred the warn pilot to a nearby lounge where he would be more comfortable…away from the lab and the painful memories it brought. After Heero was settled on a couch the rest of us took positions in chairs or on the rug near at hand should he need us but not smothering.

I knew so soon after his ordeal the boy would still be very sensitive to suggestion. I had warned the others to be very careful about what they said around him for at least the next few hours. I would have just as soon left him to sleep undisturbed but Quatre looked as if he would burst if he did not share the information he and Trowa discovered on the web.

Finally I agreed so long as they promised not to try to influence how he interpreted the evidence. 0-1 had to come to his own conclusions about things. We could not—should not, force him. I could only hope the alterations I had made to the boy's core programming would hold. If so, their findings would give voice to the lie once and for all, breaking its hold on him.

"Heero, We…Trowa mostly, found something you need to see." Quatre's hand trembled as he held out the slightly crumpled printout to his friend.

Heero took the page, his deep blue eyes scanning what was apparently a news article, more than ten years old. A frown creased his forehead as he read the headline "A new stand for peace."

The article that followed was brief, "Crowds turn out in grand style to welcome noted Senator Richard Darlian. Tuesday, During his tour of L-1 the senator declared his intent to become the next vice-foreign minister. His platform is one of peace of the same stripe as the much lamented philanthropist Heero Yuy and the royals of the Sanq Kingdom. Despite hardships of the past it seems new generation is ready to take up the banner of those worthy nobles. Senator's Darlian young daughter is already following in her father's footsteps trying to turn public opinion to the side of peace."

Below the brief story was a black and white photo, the unmistakable image of two children, both about four years old. The girl held out a flower to a scowling boy. A dog peeked uncertainty from around his leg. The girl was Relena…the boy certainly appeared to be a very young Heero.

The article was proof that the Makar took a real memory and twisted it. The girl in Heero's dream had brown eyes…while Relena's were blue but there was no question that the two were the same. The program had been enough to bind 0-1 in a cage built of emotion he was incapable of understanding. Maybe somewhere deep in his mind Heero remembered the truth…Perhaps it was the memory of the little girl she had been that stilled the soldiers hand when he first tried to kill her. His mind told him she was already dead. I looked questioningly at Heero. Could he accept this? I wondered.

"Mary was…my dog?" Heero asked uncertainly rubbing the back of his neck. "I can't remember…Odin…said…" he winced again.

I could see he needed a bit of encouragement so I took his hand and made eye contact, "It is all right to remember," I told him gently.

His eyes glazed over, I knew he had taken my words as a command and slipped easily into what J had called 'report mode.' In an emotionless voice he whispered, "I found the dog half starved we helped her get strong again but couldn't keep her. Odin said I had to find Mary a new place to live…we moved around too much. She wouldn't be happy and might get hurt. But there were so many people in the streets, I'd never seen so many. Pushing and shoving. Mary got her tail stepped on at least four times. I tried to hold her but she was too scared."

"It is all right" I encouraged, smoothing down his rumpled hair. I knew the puppy was not the only one who has an aversion to crowds. Even during his training if there were more than a dozen observers in attendance the perfect soldier's performance would suffer. It was something Doctor J and finally given up trying to correct for. The cold calculating focus of the battle-trance negated it anyway.

Heero spoke softly, I idly wondered if he was still consciously aware of our presence. "We got turned around then finally managed to squeeze into an open space. I didn't see what all the fuss was about. There was nothing there but some people. The girl with them thought we were lost—I probably was. Then I realized there were cameramen everywhere. Odin had very strict rules about not getting photographed. I did not want to get into trouble. I ran away and left Mary all alone. I kept the flower though…it was pressed between the pages of a book Odin carried. He used to read it to me when the headaches wouldn't let me sleep. It was an instruction manual."

Heero looked puzzled as memories that had been locked away shook themselves loose. His brilliant eyes regained their focus and he looked at me questioningly. "I didn't know how to read and wasn't usually in much condition to listen to him when he read but I think the book was about the maintenance and keeping of ZERO…but that couldn't be, could it? Zero wasn't even built yet…never supposed to be built at all—."

So much for letting him draw his own conclusions. Heero had just broached the subject on his own. There was no denying, no avoiding the issue, it had literally hit too close to home. I could not conceal the truth from these boys any longer. "You are not mistaken Heero," I told him, "But the book the Makar gave agent Lowe was not about the Gundam, yours or any of the others…It was a coded instruction manual about how to train your mind to accept ZERO." Even if it meant the boys would hate me…consider me an enemy; it was time the truth finally came out.


	12. Resolution

12. Resolution

"Do you remember what happened to the book after Odin was killed?" I asked.

Heero bit his lip in thought, "J asked me to fetch it before he took me to L-1. I don't know what he did with it after that. I expect he threw it out it. It was pretty destroyed as it was, covered with Odin's blood with at least three bullet holes in it." By his shiver I could see that had clearly been another memory he had suppressed till now.

"You are probably right, Doctor J would not have needed the book and he would have known how dangerous it would be in the wrong hands." I nodded, "The Zero Project was the Makar's main focus long before there were Gundams. Jay wasn't an important player in the beginning but he was there. The goal was to create the most sophisticated combat augmentation program ever conceived. They succeeded. The problem was whenever they attempted to download Zero into a computer the system immediately began to degrade…eventually self-destructing."

I took a deep breath before continuing, "Even the most complex computers of the day did not have the necessary processing speed to support the advanced functions Zero demanded. So instead of starting with a mechanical foundation the Masters decided the only solution was to begin it from a biological base. That was twenty five years ago."

I could feel five sets of eyes focused on me as I spoke but only reluctantly met each gaze. "As warriors I don't need to tell you that life is a precarious commodity. Instead of risking loosing ZERO by placing it in a single host the Makar decided to duplicate it so they would have a backup uncase something happened to the original. What the Makar did not understand was that instead of 2 copies they split the original code between the two hosts. There is Z and there is O, neither is complete on its own nor are they interchangeable as the maker always assumed.

"How do you know this?" Trowa asked quietly.

"I know it because I hold the O portion of the Code…My twin was the Keeper of the Z portion," I admitted "When the Makar designed the Zero Gundam they used my portion of the code. But when they built the Tallguese it was constructed around the Z code…and then they thought to water it down. The Makar felt if they didn't use the entire code it wouldn't degrade. What they didn't realize was the program was looking for the rest of the code…in the mind of the pilot. Many men died in very ugly ways as a result of the oversight and that is why the program was shelved. Ares and later OZ Suits were far inferior to the prototype but ultimately more reliable. When Quatre had Wing Zero built it was as the specs designed it, to contain the full version of the O code and when OZ built Epion, it carried the entire Z code but they still were incomplete, unbalanced, and dangerous. Yin with out Yang I suppose.

My brother solved the problem years ago…when we went over the results of the Talgeese tests and guessed that a human host was necessary to carry the missing portion of the code to integrate it into the system and refresh it before it could degrade. We tried to tell the Makar but the program was already being broken up. There were some here who genuinely seemed to care for my brother and I. We brought them into our confidence but it was already too late as personnel not reassigned were…liquidated. There was no telling what happened to the reports. It was a frightening time and then one morning I woke to find my twin gone, the masters hadn't even given us the opportunity to said goodbye."

The memory still affected me. I pinched the bridge of my nose and concentrated on the tight weave of the carpet.

"It was only years later when the Makar started again, with the gundam project, they finally got around to testing our theories. They altered Heero's chemical make up to carry the O portion of the code. I am almost certain OZ did the same with Zechs. He was made to carry the Z portion of the code. When you two switched Epion for Wing-Zero both codes were completed Z to O and O to Z neutralizing the instabilities inherent to both systems, finally perfecting it. Always before Zero lay dormant within you, Heero, but when I examined your thought earlier record I saw it fully integrated into the fabric of your mind, just as it is in mine."

"The lengths Doctor J would go to in order to get what he wanted, doesn't surprise me in the least…But how did Marquees get the code?" Heero asked.

"The Makar had me for their Projects…the order of the Zodiac kept my brother—he designed Epion. I could see Treize's print was all over it. He gave it to you knowing it was dangerous for Zechs to keep possession of Wing Zero…he always was an expert at reading people. He Knew the two of you would be drawn to finish what you stared in Antarctica.

I am sure he hoped things would turn out as they did. You must have sensed the code wasn't dangerous anymore when you download the operation system from Wing-Zero to the other Gundams; that theory was confirmed when it helped Nanashi get his memories back. I expect the completed code has been transmitted to you all by now."

WuFei's eyes were wide and his mouth opened and closed almost fish-like as he came to the realization..."Treize…Treize Khushrenada? He was your brother?! The man that…the one who…" he faltered, his usually composed face getting dangerously red. If the others hadn't figured it out yet his pronouncement removed all doubt.

I was afraid…me…unspeakably afraid these boys would reject me because of who I had been. Condemn me for the things my twin had done in the grip of his Romefellar handlers…things I might have been capable of doing had our places been reversed. The nameless ache that flowered in my chest revealed how much they had come to mean to me in such a short time. But it was not hatred I saw reflected in their eyes…no sense of hurt or betrayal.

I did not need the benefit of the link to tell WuFei's obsidian gaze showed only the sincere pain of regret. I'd seen that look reflected in the mirror far too many times not to know it well. The boy did not need to actually voice the words, 'I killed your brother' for me to hear the grief in his voice. I recalled the look in his eye from before…when he was lost in the memories of Nataku. Treize's death haunted him nearly as much as it did me.

"It wasn't your fault WuFei, Treize knew what he was doing," I told the visibly distraught youth. "I don't think I need to tell you how important 'being right' was my brother. Everything he did had an ulterior motive." Wheels within wheels within wheels…that was my Treize; I gently pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes—my heart cried, I shouldn't have doubted him…he was my brother.

"He thought he had to bring the world to the brink of destruction in order to get them to value peace. It was an attempt to make what the Makars did to us irrelevant, to prove we were right and they were wrong." I carefully studied five boys still didn't seem angry. My revelation did not make them suddenly see me as the enemy. Perhaps they didn't see Treize that way any longer either. My brother was like that. Even when his actions were dreadfully misguided…his personality and charisma made him a very difficult person to hate.

Letting the boys in our secret struggles somehow it made the hurt less. Treize had Zechs, perhaps they had become confidants at some point, I hoped so for Treize's sake—though it might just as easily explain why they had been on opposite sides in the last conflict. I had been alone a very long time and these boys were part of Zero's legacy just as we were. If felt good to finally get it out in the open.

"I thought his ambition was a family trait…it seems his cousin Dorothy is just as…determined in her views." Quatre frowned rubbing his side as if it pained him and I suspected he and Miss Catalonia had history. "I guess you are family to her too…Naught Khushrenada?" he tasted the name and I blanched.

As he said the name, It was with stunning clarity I realized I had been unconsciously repressing certain aspects of my personality because I did not want anyone to discover my connection with Treize…I couldn't say how long. It had been a survival instinct to remain hidden. And being reminded of my brother made me miss him so much it hurt. As a result I couldn't let anyone know the real me…it was just too dangerous, too painful. But now…it was time:

"My name-code was Double-O my formal name if any cared to ask me was Octavio. Naught is the only surname I've ever used. When we were boys Treize was Triple-Z and he would have used Naught as well. We chose it because we thought that the "Nada" part of Renada R&D referred to the fact that the entire facility was bent on developing ZERO. If things didn't turn out as the masters expected we would be obsolete "nothings" very likely slated for termination.

Let me tell you, that is a scary thing for a kid to figure out. But my brother made it into a badge, a label I could accept. It is all word-play really. Treize had a passion for it. To each other we were mostly Trei and Tavi and some of the keepers picked up on it, but we would use 8's and 13's on things to confuse people." I smiled and ran my fingers through my generally unruly hair before continuing. Long as it was on top, it lay back neatly save for a few rebellious strands that delicately brushed my brow.

The first time I heard my brother introduced as the son and heir of 'General Genghis Khushrenada' was a news feed months after the Makar took refuge in the colonies. I recognized the general of course. To us, he was 'the man' behind Renada Research and Development. If the other Makar referred to him by name it was usually by title as well, Master K of Renada R&D. He was the man in charge of the program I suspect he was the one who funded it.

There was never any question Master K was more strongly affiliated with Romefellar than the Makar, and I know they kept things from him. I hated him till the day he died. He made Treize a Romefeller pawn and left me as property of the Makar weapons development team. Whatever childhood sense of security we had in the world was torn away by his whim.

I suppose there is a chance the General might have been our father genetically speaking. From what I've heard of Romefellar they are big into propagating the old genetic lines of royalty. I can't imagine him naming Treize his heir there was no blood connection. But the general never showed any inking of fatherly regard for me and Treize and I are genetically identical, down to the DNA.

Trowa bit his lip and his brows furrowed…not in anger but in thought. "Twins?" He whispered quietly. "Do you remember when I told you about those files I read describing people with Quatre's abilities as 'neo-types? There was more…people called coordinators. The apex of that program resulted in a pair of matched twins. What you do…what Treize did…you coordinate people…each in your own way. I couldn't find much information on the original program but I think maybe that was what the scientists were trying to do here. I am surprised they would even attempt it. The little I was able to learn about them indicates they were dangerous…very difficult if not impossible to control."

I had never heard the term 'coordinator' used in that context before but I supposed it made sense, not to mention 'dangerous and difficult to control' definitely described the two of us as boys. That was one reason the scientists had so many fail-safes in place to keep the boys…manageable…especially 0-1. I sighed and resumed my explanation:

"Treize was a handful…always was." I smiled remembering. "He let his passions drive him, especially when I wasn't there to temper him. I was the level-headed one without me by his side...I expect he was more suited to their plans." I sighed. "But He would not have made it easy on them…not by a long shot. I expect my twin was so vocal about his unhappiness that he managed to convince the general to find him 'someone' to take my place at his side."

"You have seen how difficult it was for Heero to fight the link, it is a method the master's designed as a failsafe incase you got out of hand. Master K likewise wanted someone close to Treize that he could control. So when placed under ZERO Millardo Peacecraft became Zech's Marquise." I remembered the pain…the anger when I first saw him in uniform at my brother's side…even his hair color was the same…though I would never wear mine that long. It was apparent I had been replaced. My fists clenched and I really wanted to hit something. But the masters were long dead and so was General Khushrenada."

Duo broke into my thoughts, "You have the same…connection we do. They couldn't control you?" He asked leaning on the arm of the sofa where Heero was reclining.

I snorted, "From a clinical viewpoint Trei and I have always been problematic. We can instinctively understand and manipulate the ZERO in ways out trainers couldn't imagine because we were born with it. But, that had its drawbacks. I think you will recall that Treize designed and build Epyon but never flew it himself."

"I asked him about that," Heero added quietly, I could hear the fatigue heavy in his voice, "Treize said he wasn't worthy to fly it."

"Worth has nothing to do with it." I snorted, "We're Aces in an Ares, Torus, Libra or any of the mass produced suit types, though we push those machines past what they were designed to do and they tend to…wear-out rather quickly. Our skills demand more advanced suits but because of what we are, trying to pilot suits like the gundams is decidedly unwise. The Zero system will overload and blow out the power-core within a matter of days. I can't tell you how many ludicrously expensive simulators we fried before the masters figured that we had to use the factory baseline designs...I'm afraid there were some rather spectacular explosions--."

"--Which explains why G, and his Makar cronies were all scarred up and J had as many replacement parts as a sweeper garage sale. I'll bet Little T-Z had the blast radius all calculated after the first time it happened and knew just where the eye of the firestorm would be…his pretty face wasn't marred…or yours either, T-O," Duo quipped…At least those were more familiar nicknames, and he did have a point, but I ignored him for now and continued with my explanation.

"I expect Treize built a cut off switch in Tallgeese II to disable the Zero system when it got too hot. The Makar did the same thing when they used me to test pilot Vayeate and Mercurius. It was a stopgap, delaying the inevitable. I knew I was playing Russian roulette every time they made me climb into the cockpit.

The Makar knowingly gambled on my life for no better reason than to thumb their nose at OZ. I blew the lid off their plan and escaped, and that is why I am alive and they aren't. Treize knew the risks as well as I did. He was playing with fire--never intending to survive the war. You did not kill him WuFei it was suicide. He didn't want to be manipulated anymore."

Quatre studied me long and hard. "You do look like Treize you know. I didn't see it before but…I should have. It is true your hair is too light…and your eyes too dark, but your mannerisms…your speech patterns…the more you speak about him the more alike you seem," he admitted, as a noble himself I expect Winner had seen my brother socially on many occasions so he would have had cause to note such things.

"You should have seen us in uniform together." I smiled. "We were such a fine matched pair. The only differences were superficial so the masters could tell us apart. In the summer his hair was almost as light as mine. He used to joke that the reason his was strawberry-blonde and my straw-blonde...was because he'd eaten all the berries while I hid mine for later then forgot where I put them. I said his hair got deeper red in autumn because he ate my strawberries as well as his own and was obviously guilty, but his hair was the only part of him that knew how to blush."

Even Heero chuckled at the image. It made me remember something. "There should be a photo of us around here some where." I ruffled through several drawers beneath the locked bookshelves

Duo was still regarding me playfully. "You might resemble him a bit…I'll give you that, but you don't have those wicked brows."

"Don't I?" I asked licking both my thumbs then ruffled my arched eyebrows at the outside edges to form the characteristic split. It had been another of our symbols, like the two headed dragon that had been Epyon's flight mode it represented the two facets of Zero that should have been united. I produced the photo for them to see the hand-carved frame inscribed with the title "Trei--N--Tavi 7yrs."

The picture showed the two of us standing back-to-back in front of the carefully pruned red and yellow rosebushes. Our lazar-tag guns were poised in white gloved hands, pointed to the sky as if they were dueling pistols. The boys recognized the style of our uniforms immediately as the cut was the same Treize introduced for use in the upper echelon officers when he became commander of OZ.

Where his jacket was royal blue dyed sued with gold epaulettes and trim, mine was forest green and silver. The black cape draped across his left shoulder and fastened under his arm blended seamlessly with the identical one I wore on my right. Our matched white trousers had been pressed into sharp creases though my back boots did not shine quite as brightly as my brother's did. I couldn't help but smile at how dashing we looked all dressed up.

Seeing the photo of us as children seemed to spark something in WuFei's memory, "We aren't the only ones that need you, you know," he announced quietly, "There is a matter your brother left unresolved. I think you should to come back with us. You are the only one that can stand in for him."

"Stand in…how?" I asked.

Heero leaned up on one elbow. "The custody hearing?" he guessed.

"Mariemaia is Treize's daughter, your niece," Quatre explained, "Lady Une couldn't prove she was anything more that your brother's secretary. Romefellar's aren't the only ones that place a inordinate amount of value on blood relations. General Khushrenada never filed any paperwork naming Zech a foster-son and Dorothy's DNA wasn't a close enough match to get legal custody. But you shouldn't have any of those problems. Being his twin you have more claim to Mare than Dekim Barton's grasping widow. There is no telling what would happen to her under her grandmother's influence."

I nodded dumbly. Standard DNA tests are 99.9% accurate. Treize and I had been engineered with less than .01% deviation. With out my brother physically standing there to point out which of us was which, The eyes of the law would judge I WAS her father…not only that, I WAS the legal heir of the Khushrenada estate. Suddenly I didn't feel at all well. I stumbled backward a few steps and felt the boys' strong hands easing me down on one of the couches as darkness enfolded me.

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More to come…..

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Authors note:

It is with many heartfelt thanks that I acknowledge karina001, Silver-eyed Maskelle, Syngi, BadScorpio Sora the Taske and Dragona 2007 for taking the time to review. It really means a lot to me. Thanks for the support.

Well this was a whole lot of fun to write…I hope you don't mind how I reinterpreted things bit. I realize it is rather cliché to make main characters suddenly have siblings that no one knew about but when I saw endless waltz the Tech in Trowa's flashback reminded me of a rather hastily drawn, slightly faded version of Treize. It might have just been his proportions and body type but the man lacked detail which is what made him stick in my mind. Though his hair appears white his hasty action and expression did not make him seem to me as 'an old man' after all Zech's hair is the same color. So the plot-bunnies evolved from there.

I do intend to continue this series; Part 3 is titled "Makar Destiny" there is a slight hint to part 3 in my story, "Pride of Victoria" which is relatively up beat sketch of Zechs and Noin together at the academy. I have the last and likely final installment of this story on the drawing boards but my sojourn with the GW boys in ancient Rome has otherwise occupied me. I hope you enjoyed the story and go on to read the rest. 

-w.w-


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